Forged In Fire
by Lady Urquentha
Summary: Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'.  Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.
1. A Perfect Dream

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** This is a strange conglomeration of the original Dragon Age Origins game by Bioware (who owns everything you recognise) and my own rather over-active imagination. Even where I have lifted dialogue etc. straight out of the game, I have tried to embellish it or put a different twist on things.

Yes, this is yet another replay of the female Human Noble origins, but there's a rather large difference that I've not seen before (and I'm not going to spoil for you if you haven't worked it out after reading this chapter).

Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect _for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things_. _They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1 – A Perfect Dream<strong>

_What is paradise but a dream_

_Of softened edges and perfection sketched_

_Where everything is as it may seem._

_A place where the sky is blue and grass green_

_And a man by his brave deeds may win_

_The sweet and tender kiss of a queen_

∞ 'Paradise' by an unknown Orlesian poet in 9:20 Dragon

The soft scent of lavender and white Antivan lilies wafted through the room, courtesy of the bouquet displayed on the dresser. Two sturdy armour horses were tucked into the corner of the room, one laden with leather practice armour and one with full steel armour. The hushed murmur of voices and the sounds of castle life drifted in through the open window on the warm mid-afternoon breeze, disturbing the soft white curtains and the loose chocolate-brown curls of the young woman who lay curled up amongst pink pillows. Sunlight bathed her in gold, warming skin that was pale after a winter spent largely indoors and highlighting the strong Cousland nose. Long lashes concealed green eyes, both inherited from her mother, under carefully shaped brows. Her soft mouth was slightly open in concentration as she focused on the book in front of her. The collar of her dress had slipped slightly, revealing the top of a pale white scar that ran from her collarbone to the centre of her chest. In the distance, the deep barks of the mabari hounds were overlaid by the higher yips of the newly weaned pups that had been delivered to the castle the day previous.

"Your ladyship?"

Elissa looked up from her reading. One of the new elven servants stood in the doorway, shifting her weight awkwardly. Elissa tried for a moment to remember the servant's name, but failed. In the few weeks since her return from Denerim, she hadn't managed to learn the names of all the new servants who'd joined the castle in the three years since she'd been gone. "Yes?"

"The Teyrn is looking for you, my Lady," the elf whispered, "in the Main Hall."

_Howe must have arrived. _Elissa set the book on her bedcovers gently. The action summoned a puff of dust from the old creaky book, and she sneezed once. "Thank you." She rose to her feet, shaking out her pale blue skirts. A glance in the mirror assured her she looked acceptable, and then she hurried out of her bedroom and down the sloping corridor to the main castle.

Outside, the smell of lavender was replaced by the familiar scents of heavenly spices from the kitchens. When the wind was right, the smell could blanket the entire castle and draw hungry guards and children to hover outside its door till the cook took umbrage and threatened to leave if they did not give her time to cook dinner.

The guards outside one of the side-entrances to the Main Hall straightened as she approached. "My lady," the nearest one greeted her.

She nodded to them each with a warm smile. "Ser Mikael, Ser Wyatt." They had served as guards in Castle Cousland for years, Mikael often being assigned to guard her as a child. "Has Arl Howe arrived?"

"I haven't seen him, my lady," the blond warrior spread his hands. "But he would have taken the main entrance."

"Well, I suppose I'll see soon." She gestured towards the door and Ser Wyatt swiftly responded, pushing open the side-door for her. Elissa entered the brazier-lit hall, and made a beeline on silent feet towards her father. Against the dark hall and uniformed guards, his blue and gold doublet stood out like a beacon. Beside him stood the slightly rattish-looking Arl Howe, his long nose twitching slightly.

"I'm sorry, pup, I didn't see you there." Bryce Cousland smiled at her warmly. She coloured faintly at the use of the endearment in front of Howe. "Howe, you remember my daughter?"

"I see she's become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear," Howe offered, bowing.

She brought her flush under control and curtsied politely. "And you, Arl Howe."

"You are just back from Denerim, I hear? And you were the brightest jewel in King Cailan's court, no doubt, despite your…affinity for weapons."

"You flatter me, my lord," she murmured through a fake smile. Despite, or perhaps because he was an old friend of her father's and his most trusted vassal, Howe had never made his feelings about her learning to wield a sword and shield a secret.

"At twenty-two, your father must be getting close to arranging a marriage for you," Howe said pointedly. "My son, Thomas, asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him with me next time."

Elissa hid her surprise. If she recalled correctly, Thomas had gone out of his way to avoid her after she'd thrashed him on the practice court five years ago. So she doubted he'd truly have inquired after her in the manner Howe was implying. Which left only an attempt at a marriage alliance. But there hadn't been discussions about a Cousland-Howe alliance in years, and in any case her father seemed happy enough with her choice on the 'marriage market', if a little bemused.

"Thomas is a few years younger than I am," she commented, hoping to deflect the suggestion without either giving away her betrothal or being rude.

Howe chuckled, seeming to miss her point. "As you get older, those years make less difference." He sobered. "A lesson often…hard won."

Elissa shot a glance towards her father, hoping he'd intervene.

He met her eyes with amusement and then turned back to their guest. "I doubt she'll be receptive, Howe. My fierce girl has her own mind these days, Maker bless her heart, and I have promised not to bind in her a marriage she does not wish."

She smothered a smile. Yes, he'd certainly been taken aback upon his arrival in Denerim some months ago when she'd announced she'd found her husband-to-be, after years of rejecting offer after offer. The resulting betrothal would be announced when the furore over the…hasty wedding of Arl Wulff's eldest son and Bann Sighard's only daughter died down.

Howe gave another chuckle. "No doubt because you've trained her as a warrior," he commented. His smile turned sardonic. "How…unique." His disdain was clear and Elissa suppressed the urge to slap him.

Bryce took the easy way out, choosing to pretend not to have heard Howe's comment. "At any rate, pup, I summoned you here for a reason. While your brother and I are away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

She inclined her head, hiding her sigh of relief. For a moment there she'd thought he was about to tell her she was riding with them to the front lines. Fighting was all well and good, even fun, but she was well aware there was a difference between duelling in the courtyard and fighting against thousands of darkspawn. Or Orlesians. But running the keep? This she could do, with pleasure.

"I'll do my best, Father."

"Now, that's what I like to hear." He smiled broadly. "Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

Elissa kept a straight face. "I will be sure to keep them from playing too hard."

"And keep an eye on the north-east. I don't like the reports I've been getting."

For weeks now, they'd been hearing reports about mysterious disappearances from the north-eastern part of Highever. Soldiers had been sent to investigate it, but they'd heard nothing back yet. "Yes, father."

"There's also someone you must meet." Bryce looked towards one of the guards, "please, show Duncan in." The guard bowed and headed for the doors.

_Duncan?_ She frowned. The name wasn't at all familiar.

"How large of a token force are you leaving here, your lordship?" Howe inquired. "I ask simply out of concern for the safety of your wife and family."

"Forty men." Bryce laughed. "I assure you, my family will be well enough protected."

The Arl looked shocked. "What if the castle should be attacked?"

Bryce smiled. "Who would attack Castle Cousland, Howe? There hasn't been an attack here since the Orlesians left. In any case, my family is not defenceless. Both my wife and Elissa here are fine warriors."

Elissa's cheeks warmed at the compliment.

"Yes, where is the Teyrna?" Howe looked around as though he thought she was hiding in a corner.

"With the Lady Landra," Bryce said. "The lady and her son arrived a few hours ago."

"Ah," Howe nodded. "Are they staying long?"

"Only a few days, and then my wife will follow them back to Bann Loren's estates."

The doors swung open, and a bearded figure in white and red approached. He offered a half-bow. "It is an honour to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland."

Elissa scanned the figure automatically, sizing him up as she'd been taught to do. Slightly taller than her father, he was lean rather than heavily muscled. He wore armour over travel-worn robes instead of the fancy clothes of the two noble males, suggesting a man who was on the move constantly and most likely fought for a living. Although she personally wasn't convinced of the practicalities in fighting in robes that flapped around one's legs, she supposed it was no different than fighting in a dress, which she had done before. The two blades on his back indicated a rogue by training, or at least a warrior more focused on speed and less on endurance and strength. His eyes were intelligent and wary, flicking to take in all aspects of the room as though sizing up possible threats. He walked confidently, with an assured air that was normally found only among nobles…or seasoned, grumpy old warriors. This was not a man to be crossed lightly, then. Duncan eyed her, taking in the dress, jewels and loosely pinned hair with evident surprise.

With an amused smile, she wondered what rumours he'd heard about 'Bryce Cousland's little spitfire' who could match nearly every man she fought on the practice courts. Was it that surprising to see that a warrior could also be, and enjoy being, a woman?

"Your lordship!" Howe looked surprised. "You didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

Elissa's eyes narrowed as her spine stiffened. A Grey Warden. She'd grown up on stories about them, fed to her by her parents and King Maric and even the occasional one from Teyrn Loghain.

"Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced," Bryce explained. "Is there a problem?"

"Of course not," Howe assured him. "But a guest of this stature requires certain protocol. I am…at a disadvantage."

His oily smile threatened to turn her stomach.

"I require no such courtesies, your lordship," Duncan said.

"We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true," Bryce noted. "Pup, you know who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?"

"Yes, Father. They're an order of great warriors." Few would dispute that, regardless of whether they liked the Grey Wardens or not.

"They are the heroes of legend, ended the Blights and saved us all," Bryce nodded. He was one of those who did like them. "Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Ser Gilmore? He had been her personal bodyguard in Denerim for those three years, shadowing her every move. He was solidly built, and one of the best warriors in the Castle. Losing him to the Wardens, while an honour for Ser Gilmore, was going to be a staggering loss to her father.

"If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your daughter is also an excellent candidate," Duncan suggested.

She was horrified by the suggestion and turned pleading eyes on her father. Her…a Grey Warden?

"Honour though that might be, this is my daughter we're talking about," Bryce stepped between them firmly, his voice hardening.

"I've no interest in becoming a Grey Warden," she added over his shoulder.

"You did just finish saying that Grey Wardens are heroes, old friend," Howe commented.

Bryce ignored him. "Do you hear that, Duncan? My daughter has no interest in becoming a Grey Warden and in any case, I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle." His voice faltered slightly. "Unless you intend to invoke the Rite of Conscription?"

Elissa froze at the reminder of the Wardens ultimate recruiting power.

"Have no fear," Duncan assured them. "While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

Tension drained from her shoulders, and Elissa could almost have laughed with relief.

Her father turned, his own relief clear upon his face. "Pup, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

She nodded. "Of course. I am at your disposal, Warden."

"Most kind, your ladyship," Duncan murmured.

"In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me," Bryce instructed.

"Where is Fergus?" she inquired, eager to be away from the disconcerting Duncan.

"Upstairs, in his chambers, no doubt," Bryce answered, his voice softening. "Spending some last moments with his wife and my grandson. Be a good lass and do as I've asked. We'll talk soon."

She curtsied. "Yes, Father." She glanced at the other two men. "Arl Howe. Ser."

"I'm sure I'll meet you again before we depart," Howe said warmly. Duncan simply nodded back silently.

Elissa turned and quickly stepped back outside the hall, into the bright sunshine. Taking in a deep breath of cool, fresh air, she settled herself. _Right, find Fergus._ A quick nod to the guards, and she turned left, heading for the family's private quarters.

"There you are," a male voice interrupted her.

She halted and turned. A familiar red-haired figure in the brown and silver armour of the Highever guards approached her. The bright sun gleamed off the metal, nearly blinding her for a moment.

"Your mother said the Teyrn had summoned you," he began, "so I didn't want to interrupt."

Elissa raised an eyebrow. "Hello to you too, Ser Gilmore."

He chuckled nervously, looking chastised as he offered her a quick bow. "Pardon my abruptness my lady, it's simply that I've been looking everywhere for you."

"You'd think after those three years as my personal guard in Denerim, you'd realise when I was just teasing," she grinned at him. "What seems to be the problem?"

He gestured behind him. "I fear your hound has the kitchens in an uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave."

Elissa bit back a grin of amusement. "She does that on an almost weekly basis. Did Duke get into the larder again?"

"No matter how the maids try to keep him out he always finds a way in. You know these mabari hounds, he'll listen to his mistress but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off," he teased.

She shook her head. "Then I guess I should go collect him," she knew her amusement showed in her voice.

"That would be wise, before Nan tears down the walls," Gilmore agreed, sounding more like her mother than one of her father's guards. "You're quite lucky to have your own mabari war hound you know. Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say." He grinned, his green eyes sparkling. "Of course, that means he's easily bored. Nan swears he confounds her, just to amuse himself."

"Like mistress, like dog," Elissa commented with a grin.

"But you are far prettier, my lady," Gilmore said softly, his heart in his eyes as he looked at her.

Her smile faltered for a moment. She'd thought the last two months without following her night and day would have finished this crush he seemed to have on her.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably when the silence dragged on. "At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?"

She was tempted to tell him that she didn't need him to help her collect Duke, that she was quite capable of doing it by herself. But that would have been needlessly cruel. "Yes, let's go."

Upon arriving in the over-heated kitchen, Elissa found Nan scolding two cringing kitchen elves.

"Get that bloody mutt out of the larder!"

"But mistress," the female elf muttered, "it won't let us near."

"If I can't get into that larder," Nan said sternly, "I'll skin both of you useless elves, I swear it."

"Uh," Ser Gilmore broke in. "Calm down, good woman. We've come to help."

"You," Nan began before her eyes fell on Elissa. "And you! Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder. That beast should be put down."

If it had been anyone else saying that, Elissa would have taken offence. But Nan had raised her, and Elissa had long since learnt that a heart of gold was buried beneath the irritable outer shell. Elissa raised an eyebrow. "Put down a pureblood mabari? I think the cost of replacing him would cover a few hundred stolen chickens, no?" Not, of course, that a mabari could be replaced in the heart of his owner.

Nan sighed. "Just get him gone. I've enough to worry about with a castle full of hungry soldiers." She spun to face the cringing servants. "You two, stop standing there like idiots and get out of the way." The elves scampered out of range.

Elissa rolled her eyes and headed for the larder. Pulling open the door, she leaned against the doorframe and waited for the prowling dog inside to notice her. Duke had been her nineteenth birthday present, just days before they left for Denerim. Those first lonely few months after her parents had returned to Highever, he'd been her only solace in a city comprised largely of distant acquaintances and complete strangers. Fergus had spent most of his days locked up with various noble lords and heirs, leaving Elissa alone in the massive Cousland estate during the day. At night she and Fergus attended the parties and balls at various estates as was considered proper for the scions of the Cousland line, but during the day she'd spend hours playing in the estate's gardens with her new puppy. At least, until the return of her childhood friend and current King of Ferelden to the palace. Then she'd taken Duke up to the palace with her and sit him by the practice courts as she duelled with Anora or Cailan.

"Oh. Look at that mess." Gilmore shook his head with a disapproving sigh. "How did he even get in here?"

"I imagine he slipped in the larder door," Elissa said dryly. "The kitchen staff have a habit of leaving it unlocked, and he worked out how to open unlocked doors in Denerim." She stretched out her hand. Duke ignored her beckoning fingers, barking excitedly with the faintest hint of a growl in it. She frowned slightly. Despite Ser Gilmore's assertions, Duke was a very well behaved dog most of the time and never missed a command from Elissa, spoken or implied. Duke barked again, this time with a warning tone. She tilted her head. "Are you trying to tell me something, boy?"

He spun in place, barking madly. That was a yes then. There was something in here that he was concerned about. She sniffed. There was something off in the air, some strange smell she didn't recognise.

"He does seem like he's trying to tell you something," Gilmore conceded. "Wait, did you hear that?"

Even as he spoke, there was the sound of claws scrabbling on stone. Giant rats appeared from underneath sacks of flour, barrels of wine and anywhere they could possibly secrete themselves. With a loud bark, Duke launched himself into the bedlam.

"Maker," she swore. She had no weapons and she was wearing a dress. Perfect. She clenched her fists, thinking with dry amusement of the lessons in defensive hand-to-hand combat her mother had insisted she take in addition to the lessons in swordplay. Elissa was willing to bet that Lady Eleanor had not imagined her classes being put to this particular use.

She lunged for the nearest one, wincing as her hand connected with the hairy, squishy body. Her uncalloused knuckles ached from the impact. It slid back slightly, and she punched again. It flew into the opposite wall with a loud thwack, and then slid to the floor, leaving a trail of bright red against the stone. The scrape of metal on metal told her Ser Gilmore was drawing his sword to join the fight. A sudden, bright pain in her left arm made her jerk and look down only to see a rat hanging off her hand, teeth buried in her forearm. With a yell, she punched with her free hand. It fell away, shocked but uninjured, as blood started to flow from the wound. Duke was suddenly there, ripping the rat to pieces, and she desperately turned to face the next rat determined to bite her.

Several long minutes later, the adrenaline was still pumping in her system but they were surrounded by dead rats. The back of her skirts was slightly ripped where a rat had tried to climb it, but with the right arrangement of the folds it would be barely noticeable. The blood splatter staining the blue material would be harder to hide. Her own blood oozed from various long gashes and bites in her forearms, while her knuckles were splattered with rat blood where she'd punched an already injured rat. Elissa grimaced. She'd need to change before going to see Fergus and Oriana. And find a healing potion or two to make sure the rat saliva in her bloodstream was neutralized.

"Giant rats?" Gilmore's words were accompanied with the hiss of metal as he sheathed his blade. "It's like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell. Your hound must have chased them in through their holes. Looks like he wasn't raiding the larder after all."

"It certainly looks that way." Elissa ruffled Duke's fur with an ankle, not daring to touch him with her hands. "You're such a good boy. I've got a special treat for you when we get back upstairs, okay?" Duke barked enthusiastically, licking her hand.

"Look at the wicked claws. Rats from the Korcari Wilds!" Gilmore turned towards her, his eyes widening as he took in her blood-drenched arms and dress. "My lady!"

Great. If he went running to her parents about these minor injuries, she'd never be allowed in the kitchens again. She moved to wave him off, and then decided it was better not to draw further attention to her arms. "I'm fine. I can barely feel anything, and some water will deal with it," she assured him.

"My lady," he began, "let me get Nan fo-"

"I said, I'm fine," she said, her tone annoyed now. Maker's breath, she didn't want to be babied over a couple of scratches. They could wait until she was done in here. She held his gaze, silently ordering him to drop it. "I'm more concerned about these rats. How did they make it up here then? We're about as far from the Wilds as you can get without marching into the sea."

"I wouldn't know. Best not to tell Nan though. She's upset enough as it is." He gave her arms another dubious look. "If you're sure you're fine, my lady, I'll be on my way. I'm to prepare for the arrival of more of the Arl's men. Shall I tell the Teyrna about this?"

Elissa shook her head, ignoring the slow throbbing in her arms as the adrenaline began to wear off. "I'll tell Mother. You'd best go change before the Teyrn sees you. Thank you for your help, Ser Gilmore."

He offered her a half-bow, and then withdrew. She looked around the larder with a sigh, taking in the bloody splattered walls and floor, and the giant rat corpses. Not tell Nan, indeed. It was going to be as plain as the nose on her face what had happened here. There was even blood splattered on various casks and sacks. Nan would have to decide whether the contents were ruined or not. Not to mention the ugly stink of spilled entrails. "Come on. Let's go, Duke."

"There he is," Nan said in disgust as they emerged from the larder. "As brazen as you please, licking his chops...my lady! You're bleeding!"

Elissa grimaced. "It looks worse than it is. Not all of it's mine," she assured the old nurse.

"Fetch her ladyship a bucket of water and towels," Nan snapped over her shoulder. Her fingers were gentle as they examined the wounds. "And what we have here is bad enough, Lady Elissa. You're losing far too much blood. Why did you stop Ser Gilmore from getting me? Particularly when you were just going to come out here and have me care for them anyone."

Elissa gave her a surprised look. _How had she known?_

"I wasn't born yesterday," Nan said dryly. "I'm well aware the only thing that could possibly get that boy to ignore your health is a direct order from you. Kath, a healing potion, _now_."

Elissa shrugged with a grin. "The stubbornness of the Couslands?"

Nan shook her head. "Well, I'll have to talk to him about letting you get away with that. Now, if this blood isn't all yours, then whose is it?"

"The rats," Elissa nodded towards the larder.

A gasp from nearby alerted them to the presence of the two kitchen elves. "What? R…rats?" the female stuttered, her arms frozen around a bucket of water. "Not the large grey ones!"

"They'll rip you to shreds they will," the male one added, sounding horrified.

"Give me that," Nan ordered. She dipped an offered cloth in the water and then began to clean the blood from Elissa's wounds. She shook her head. "Did you have to say it quite so loud, my lady? Now you've gone and scared the servants."

"I'm sorry." Elissa eyed her arms with a faint feeling of surprise and a sliver of fear. She hadn't thought it was this bad, or she wouldn't have fobbed Ser Gilmore off. There were seven long, deep gashes on her left arm, and two puncture holes from rat teeth. Her right arm was worse, with only four gashes but four puncture holes. Both were covered in shallow scratches, some of which were also bleeding.

"I expect those filthy things are dead." Nan examined the newly clean skin critically, watching as it still bled sluggishly. "Rat saliva would explain the abnormal bleeding. Hold still."

Elissa bit her lip as Nan poured alcohol from the nearest bottle over the wounds. Fire ate at each gash and puncture.

"Drink," Nan ordered, holding a red vial to her lips.

Elissa obediently opened her mouth and the liquid slid down her throat. As she watched, her skin began to knit itself back together. "Yes, the rats are dead. But I'm afraid it's quite a mess, in fact." She breathed a sigh of relief as the slow throb of pain dulled and then faded completely.

"Oh, but I bet that dog led those rats in there to begin with," Nan grumbled.

Duke whined, looking pitiful.

"Oh, don't even start with the sad eyes," Nan warned him. "I'm immune to your so-called charms."

Duke whined again, his ears sagging and looking even more pathetic.

Nan sighed, and then walked into the larder. She re-emerged after a moment with large chunks of raw meat in a dog bowl. "Here, then. Take these pork bits and don't say Nan never gives you anything. Bloody dog."

Elissa didn't bother hiding her smile as Duke chewed happily away.

"Well, they look to have healed." Nan poked at her arms. "If they give you any trouble, come back to me immediately," she warned, "and we'll have to go to Jamael." Most of the minor ailments afflicting people in the castle were dealt with by the victims themselves with the help of minor healing potions, but setting bones and more significant injuries took a more practiced hand, hence Jamael's role as castle herbalist.

"Yes, Nan."

"Look at your skirts." Nan sighed, her eyes lingering on the bloodstains. "Best you don't let the Teyrna see you like that. She has guests today."

"So Father said," Elissa agreed. "I'll slip up to my room to change."

"No, no," Nan waggled a finger. "Lady Cousland was in the family's quarters, last I heard. Agnes, fetch Lady Elissa one set of her dresses from the laundry, and the matching slippers."

"Thank you." Elissa nodded to her.

"'Tis no trouble." Nan shrugged. "Come with me."

Elissa followed her into another small room off the kitchen. This was the wine cellar, where bottles and casks of wine reached from the floor to the ceiling along all four walls. Nan's deft hands were already unlacing her bodice as she hadn't had to do for many years. The door opened a crack and Agnes slipped in, holding in her arms a pale green and yellow over-dress and the dark green matching under-dress.

As the blood-stained blue over-dress crumpled to the floor, Elissa stripped off the under-dress till she stood in only her shift. It took several minutes to wash the last of the blood off her body, lace the new dress, and settle it. Then Nan insisted on repairing the damage to her hairstyle before letting her out of the kitchen.

With her faithful hound at her side, Elissa turned back towards the private family residence. Heading up the slope, she spotted her mother on the landing, with another grey-haired woman and a young man she vaguely recognised.

"…and my dear Bryce," Eleanor Cousland said, "brought this back from Orlais last year. The marquis who gave it to him was drunk I understand, and mistook Bryce for the king. Ah, here is my lovely daughter. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchen is handled?"

"Yes, mother. Nan is back to work as we speak," Elissa assured her.

"You've always had a way with her." Eleanor sighed. She seemed to suddenly remember her guests. "Darling, you remember Lady Landra, Bann Loren's wife?"

"I think we last met at your mother's spring salon before your departure to Denerim." The grey-haired woman smiled.

Elissa recognised her then. Lady Landra had been the exceedingly drunk older woman stumbling around and trying to match-make between her son and Elissa. "Of course. It's good to see you again, my lady."

"You're too kind, dear girl." Landra laughed. "Didn't I spend half the salon trying to convince you to marry my son?"

"And made a very poor case for it, I might add," the red-haired young man next to her added dryly.

"You remember my son, Dairren." Landra gestured. "He's still not married yet." She winked.

Elissa smiled politely. And Lady Landra didn't even have the excuse of being drunk this time. "Dairren, it's been a long time." She held out her hand.

"Don't listen to her," Dairren said quickly, as he bowed over her hand and brushed her knuckles with a kiss. "It's good to see you again, my lady. You're looking as beautiful as ever."

The look in his eyes was honestly admiring, and Elissa's cheeks warmed. Perhaps, in another lifetime, she would have considered the match. It was not the best match she could have made, to a minor lord's son, but if she could honestly have come to care for him, it might have been possible.

She laughed. "Flatterer." After over two months out of Denerim, it was almost too easy to slip back into the court flirtations.

"The truth," he enjoined, smiling.

"And this is my lady-in-waiting," Landra interrupted them, gesturing to a pretty, blonde elf Elissa hadn't noticed. "Iona. Do say something, dear."

"It's a great pleasure, my lady." Iona curtsied. "You are as pretty as your mother describes."

Startled, Elissa shot a look at her mother. "Thank you, Iona. I think we can all agree my mother is prone to exaggeration at times, but I thank you for the compliment. You should see me after practice in the courtyard, and then you'll change your mind."

"Your prowess with a blade is most impressive," Dairren said smoothly, "according to all I've heard."

"I was quite the battle-maiden myself in my day," Eleanor smiled. "But I think it was the softer arts that helped me land a husband."

Elissa smiled. Perhaps it had for her mother. But it was Elissa's skill in the practice courts that had drawn the attention of her betrothed as more than simply a daughter of the Couslands. She considered for a brief moment whether her arms would be up for a fight so soon after being injured. "Dairren, perhaps we could duel later, if you are interested?"

"I would like that, my lady," Dairren agreed warmly. The castle bell chimed the hour, accompanied by the squawks of the disturbed birds resting on the bell tower.

"I think perhaps I shall rest now, my dear." Landra glanced at her son, "Dairren, I will see you at supper."

Dairren nodded. "Of course, Mother. Perhaps I shall retire to the study for now. Lady Cousland, Lady Elissa."

Elissa inclined her head. "I will seek you out later."

The young bann's son swept past her, Iona following him closely.

"Your ladyship," Landra offered, before turning and walking towards her rooms.

"I meant it, you are very pretty," Eleanor said and then suddenly smiled. "As you well know."

"I have been told that on occasion," Elissa agreed with a grin, "but only by people so biased I cannot trust their words."

"Do you trust the King so little then?" Eleanor teased.

"He was nine and he wanted the bar of chocolate I was holding," Elissa retorted.

Eleanor laughed. "Most likely."

"Mother…" Elissa hesitated. "The reason Duke was in the larder…"

"It's all right, dear. I know one can't truly control a mischievous Mabari." Eleanor laughed. "Just as long as you can keep Nan here."

"No." Elissa shook her head. "He had a reason to be in there. There were rats from the Korcari Wilds."

Eleanor's eyes widened. "Rats!"

Elissa nodded.

"Well, we'll have to have the castle searched and cleaned from top to bottom to make sure there aren't any more. Although what Korcari Wild rats are doing here, I don't know. Don't worry, my dear, I'll take care of it. You should say your goodbyes to Fergus while you have the chance."

Elissa nodded. "I will." She hesitated. "Did you know there's a Grey Warden here?"

"Yes, your father mentioned that." Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "You haven't got it into your head that you want to be recruited?"

Elissa shuddered. "Definitely not. I'm the marrying type, not the running around doing heroic battles type, mother."

"Regardless of your affinity for blades." Eleanor's eyes twinkled. "A few years ago, your answer would have been quite different. I remember a little girl who announced that since Fergus was going to rule the Teyrnir, she was going to go off and join the King's army."

"Priorities change." Elissa's smile softened.

"Especially when you fall in love," Eleanor murmured. "Good. I don't need you off chasing danger like your father and brother." Worry creased the skin around her eyes and mouth.

She rested her hand on her mother's shoulder. "Fergus and Father will be fine. They're both great warriors, and our soldiers will not let them fall."

"Your father and brother are marching off to fight Maker-knows-what. All the assurances in the world don't comfort me." Eleanor sighed. "But they have their duty, and we have ours. Duty comes first, it always has." Her eyes grew distant.

"Do you regret marrying Father?" Elissa asked abruptly, suddenly desperate to know. "Doing your duty, instead of following your heart?"

Eleanor's eyes focused again. "What? Oh. No." She shook her head. "No, I never have. Tobias and I, we would never have worked in the long run. And I have grown to love your father very much."

"Then why did you never force a marriage between me and…oh, I don't know…Bann Teagan?" She vividly remembered days spent in her father's office, going over betrothal offers that came in from across Ferelden. Her parents had both been very interested in that particular offer, not very subtly suggesting she consider marrying him.

"You did not seem interested," Eleanor said. "And with Fergus already married, we could afford to let you have your time, and choice in husband. Your father and I are very aware that our happiness in marriage was lucky. I would not condemn you, my daughter, to a marriage without love."

"And you are…not angry with me?" she asked quietly. "I know he is not what you hoped for me."

The Teyrna looked startled. "Angry with you? No, of course not. Surprised, perhaps. He is no prince charming, and he would not have been my choice for you. But if you love him and are happy, then I am happy, my darling girl."

Elissa studied her mother's face. Tension and worry lingered in every worn crease and line, and something in the green eyes, the same eyes that Elissa had, made Elissa shift uncomfortably. "I'm hardly a girl any longer."

"Indeed." Eleanor smiled faintly. "I turned around and here you are, preparing for a wedding that will rival the King's. But that doesn't mean I have to like it." She sighed. "Listen to this foolishness. For a time I feared you would never tire of playing the warrior and now I complain when you do."

"The wedding will not be for some time, Mother." Elissa reached out to take her mother's hands. "We have not yet even announced it. I will be here for a year at least."

"Not long enough by far, my dear." Eleanor shook her head briskly. "But enough of that. Quick, quick, be on your way. I will see you later."

Elissa hesitated, and then leaned forward to hug her mother fiercely and kiss her on the cheek. "I love you too." She inhaled her mother's familiar scent, of Ferelden wildflowers over clean skin, and tightened her grip.

Heading up into the family quarters, she found Fergus in his quarters, just as her father had predicted. Although Castle Cousland itself was rather bare of hangings, the stone walls in these rooms were covered with rich, vibrant hangings, each painstakingly woven by Oriana since her arrival at Castle Cousland. Unlike her lavender-scented room, here it was the soft scent of roses that perfumed the air. It was a little too heavy for her tastes, but her Antivan sister-in-law loved it.

"Is there really going to be a war, Papa? Will you bring me back a _sward_?" the six-year-old Oren demanded.

"That's sword, Oren," Fergus corrected him as he knelt down to his son's height. "And I'll get you the mightiest one I can find, I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

Her chin-length brown hair swayed as Oriana shook her head from where she stood by the bookshelf. "I wish victory was indeed so certain." Her voice was thick, as though she were about to cry. "My heart is…disquiet."

Fergus smiled, and stood up. "Don't frighten the boy, love. I speak the truth. And here's my little sister to see me off. Now dry your eyes off and wish me well."

Elissa moved further into the chamber with a grin. "No darkspawn could harm Fergus," she agreed. "Why, they'll all run screaming at the sight of him. Not that I could blame them." She winked, and grinned at Fergus's affronted expression.

"You are not too big for me to toss into the sea, sister dear."

Elissa smirked at him. "You haven't managed that since I was twelve." When she was younger, whenever she'd irritated Fergus, he'd catch her and toss her through the old sea door into the Waking Sea. Eleanor had been furious when she'd caught him the first time, despite Fergus's defence that it was teaching her to dive and to swim and that she'd been in no danger anyway since he dived in straight after her. They'd quickly learnt to sneak back to their rooms to change into dry clothes afterwards, and Nan had kept quiet about how many sets of wet clothes made their way into the laundry.

He laughed. "That's because you avoid the North Tower whenever I'm near it." It was the North Tower that led down to the sea door that had once been almost at sea level, but was now nearly eight feet above it.

"He is as mortal as anyone." Oriana refused to be cheered up. "Despite his refusal to believe such."

"Now, love, no need to be grim." Fergus's face softened. "I promise I'll be careful, and do everything I can to come home safe." He leaned over his son's head to give his wife a gentle kiss, his fingers brushing gently against her cheek.

"You will be missed, brother," Elissa offered. "But I bring a message. Father wants you to leave without him."

"Then the Arl's men are delayed." Fergus sighed in exasperation. "You'd think his men were all walking backwards."

"Like you used to do when you wanted to escape lessons?" Elissa teased him.

"Very funny, my dear," Fergus scowled at her for a moment. "Well, I'd better get underway. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time. I'll see you soon my love."

"I would hope, dear boy," Her father's voice came from behind her, and Elissa twisted to watch her parents enter the room, "that you planned to wait for us before taking your leave."

"Be well, my son." Eleanor pressed a hand to his cheek. "I will pray for your safety, every day you are gone."

"I keep telling you, no darkspawn will ever best me," Fergus said confidently.

The ever-pious Oriana folded her hands in front of her and bowed her head. "The Maker sustain and preserve us all," she said. "Watch over our sons, husbands and fathers and bring them safely back to us."

Her ever-irreverent husband added with a grin: "And bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it…er, for the men of course."

Oriana's jaw dropped open. "Fergus! You would say this in front of your mother!"

Elissa grinned at her brother. "Mother has heard him say far worse, I am sure."

"What's a wench?" Oren asked. "Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?"

"A wench is a woman that pours the ale in a tavern, Oren." Bryce's eyes twinkled. "Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

"Bryce! Maker's breath, it's like living with a pair of small boys." The smile she shot at Elissa was affectionate. "Thankfully, I have a daughter."

"I'll miss you too, mother dear." Fergus laughed. He shifted his attention. "You'll take care of her, Elissa, won't you?"

"Mother can handle herself. Always has." Elissa grinned. "But yes, I will."

"Getting in some practice at running a castle before you have your own to play with." Fergus shook his head. "Father, are you sure it's a good idea? She might break something."

"Like your head," Elissa threatened.

"Enough, enough" Bryce laughed. "Fergus, you'll need to be going. And Elissa, I heard something about offering to duel Dairren? Do try not to embarrass him too much, pup."

She knew a dismissal when she heard one. "Oh? And why not?" She smiled sweetly at their laughter. "Goodbye, brother. When you return, I'll be sure to explain how I ran the Teyrnir in words of two syllables or less so you can take notes for when it's your turn." Grinning and ignoring her brother's spluttering, she leaned forward and hugged him, her hands sliding against the leather armour. "Be safe. Don't get yourself killed, idiot."

"Goodbye, brat." He squeezed her tightly, then pulled back to look her in the eyes. "Well, I suppose at least I can be relieved that you no longer have your sights set on my Teyrnir."

"Nor the patience to wait for it," she agreed cheerfully. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a duel to win."

An hour later, Elissa was on the practice courts, stretching her muscles in preparation for the upcoming battle. Her studded leather practice armour was comfortable and flexible, and she knew how to move in it. Unlike the formal armour hanging in her room, which had been a present from her betrothed upon the signing of the betrothal documents two and a half months ago, she'd worn the same practice gear for nearly five years now.

The clang of metal against metal echoed through the courtyard as other guards fenced against each other, broken by the occasional whistle and thud of arrows hitting targets. Whenever the wind picked up, she could smell the sour tang of human sweat floating across the practice yard.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Dairren inquired.

One last stretch and she straightened, shaking out her arms. Sliding her hands into the leather gloves, she stretched her fingers to check the range of movement in the smooth, supple fabric. She took a deep breath, feeling the cool wind brush past her cheeks, and then looked to her opponent. "I am. Till first blood?" She settled the shield on her arm, and then drew her sword and tossed the sheath down on the floor. A faint apprehension settled over her, which she quickly pushed aside. Her arms would be fine.

"First blood or first to yield," he agreed, raising his blade.

She crossed swords with him, rolled her neck once and then met his eyes. "Begin."

Both pulled back, circling each other warily. One minutes, and then two passed. Abruptly, Elissa lunged in and he hurriedly lifted his sword. Their weapons met with a resounding clang. A thrust to the right was deflected by her shield, while she simultaneously struck out with her blade. He blocked with his blade and then slashed in. Elissa pivoted, bringing up her shield to block the movement and then feinted left. Yes, her arms were fine. Not even a twinge from either. A small smile danced on her lips as she settled into the familiar rhythm.

Some minutes later she backed away to regroup and consider. She was warm now from the exertion, but not at risk of sweating quite yet. He, on the other hand, had sweat beading on his forehead. It was light but present, and when he moved she could smell the strange combination of male musk, leather and metal that lingered around soldiers. In any case, she was sure she had his measure now. Despite his professed awareness of her reputation as a fighter, he was still hesitant about attacking a woman and did not put all his strength behind each blow. And while he was well-trained, he lacked the expert polish that the warriors she normally fought had. As a squire, that was understandable. But it also meant there was an opening she could exploit when he attacked. Occasionally his shield would drop too low as he lunged, and a quick blade would be able to sneak into that opening.

She whipped her blade up just in time to block a blow aimed at her collarbone, and then danced out of the way of another. Another frantic exchange of blows later and she saw her chance. Pivoting to let his blade slide past, she flicked her own blade and a red scratch appeared on his left forearm.

Dairren froze and then stepped back. He glanced down at his arm. "Congratulations, my lady." His smile was rueful.

She reached down to offer him a hand up. "You were hesitant about hitting a woman." She shrugged. "That's actually what wins me most bouts."

She'd leave the lesson in shield use for his trainer to teach him.

"I don't know about that," another voice said from the side-lines. Duncan was leaning over the fence at the edge, his eyes critical

"Lord Dairren, this is Duncan, a Grey Warden. Duncan, this is Lord Dairren of Silver Lake," she said quickly.

"It is a pleasure, my lord," Duncan nodded briefly. "You are an impressive fighter, your ladyship. The stories hardly do you justice."

Embarrassed, and faintly alarmed, Elissa didn't know quite what to say. "Uh, thank you."

"As for you, my lord, she exploited the fact that you drop your shield too far when you lunge," Duncan added.

Dairren nodded, his eyes cool. "My thanks, Warden." His eyes warmed as he switched his attention. "Lady Elissa, would you care for another round?"

"Actually," Duncan broke in again as he climbed the fence, "I was wondering whether the lady would care to try her skills against an old man?"

Elissa stepped back. She couldn't see any way out of this that wouldn't come across as rude. "You are hardly an old man, Warden," she said politely. "I would be honoured."

Duncan smiled. "Good." He moved into the centre of the court, while Dairren reluctantly shifted to the side-lines. As Duncan drew the two blades across his back, it was clear from the way he handled them that he was more than competent with them. This was likely to be embarrassing, she thought ruefully. "First to yield?"

He nodded silently and then attacked.

Taken by surprise, she barely leaped back in time to avoid having her chest sliced open. She heard Dairren's cry, and pushed it aside in her mind. She lunged left, feeling the shock reverberating up her arm as Duncan's blade met hers. For a moment she wondered if her sword would break under the pressure. He was stronger than he looked. She thrust again. He danced out of the way and slashed down with the dagger in his left hand. Her shield blocked the blow and she pulled back to circle him warily. He had both the height and the weight on her, and he was trained for speed rather than strength. And still was far stronger than he looked.

His blade came up from underneath and she swiftly blocked it, feeling her arms burn where the rats had bitten through her skin. Perhaps she hadn't recovered quite as much as she'd thought. He feinted to the right, then to the left and then came straight down the middle. She hurriedly brought her shield up to block him, and then whipped her sword around in a half-moon. Her eyes widened as he switched hands suddenly, and the point of the sword scraped along the armour on her stomach. She cursed under her breath and back-pedalled. A lock of wavy hair slid from its tie and dangled in front of her face. She flicked her head to try and knock it back, and her foot slipped. She nearly went down, managing to keep on her feet and in one piece by sheer good luck. He met her eyes with an amused smile, not even breathing hard. Gritting her teeth, she attacked. He danced around each blow like a quicksilver snake, turning the edge of her blade or simply not being where she struck.

Suddenly he turned the tables on her. It was her turn to lose ground then, backing up as his blade moved faster than lightning, each blow threatening to cleave her head from her shoulders. The match with Dairren had been like a dance, each party more interested in testing their skill than anything else. This was more the sort of fight she imagined might be between two enemies sworn to the death. He wasn't holding back at all, and any single blow would easily deal a grievous wound if she didn't block it. As they fought, the world dissolved around her until the only thing that existed was this fight and their blades. Her aches and pains faded into insignificance, and she could feel the elated grin on her lips.

The base of their blades met with a resounding crash, and the hilts locked as she suddenly found herself pressed up against his body. He bore down, trying to force her to her knees. The muscles in her arms strained and screamed as she pushed back against him. But with his height and weight, he was easily winning. She dropped to the floor, rolling out the way as the silver blade whistled down where her neck had been moments before. She came back to her feet, balancing on her toes as she waited for her enemy.

His smile was harder now, and he came at her like a silver whirlwind. Her breath came in quick, short pants as she met him blow for blow. For long minutes they duelled, the sound of their footfalls and clashing blades the only sound in the courtyard and the fight seeming never-ending to her burning muscles. Then as she thrust forward, Duncan's blade snaked around hers and, suddenly, her sword was wrenched from her hands and went flying through the air.

Weaponless, she shifted tactics. This was something her brother had used against her the last time she'd disarmed him. Before he had time to say anything, she stepped forward to ram him with the shield, the weight of her shoulder behind it. He stumbled back in surprise and she darted out past him. Three leaping steps took her to her blade and she snatched it up, turning to face him again with her chest heaving.

To her surprise, he was still standing where she'd left him, laughing.

The surprise brought her back to her surroundings and she remembered where they were. She wasn't fighting for her life, only duelling on the practice courts in Castle Cousland. As her breathing slowed, her aching muscles began to make themselves known even louder. The newly healed wounds were throbbing, a counterpoint to her heart. She shot a glance at Dairren at the side-lines, only to blink when she realised they had gathered quite an audience, all of whom were whooping and cheering. Dairren's own smile was somewhat brittle, and with a sinking heart, Elissa realised she'd just made it very clear that she'd been playing during their previous fight.

Duncan smiled broadly. "Very well done," he said. "Most nobles would have surrendered once I disarmed them. You have imagination and courage enough to find another way around. As I said, you are a very talented swordswoman."

"Thank you," she said politely, running her ungloved hand through her sweaty hair to push it back again. She collected the sheath from where it was lying, gritting her teeth as her forearms protested the movement, and slid her sword into it.

"Just the sort of fighter we're looking for in the Grey Wardens," he hinted.

She frowned in exasperation. Was that what this was about? Would he not give it a rest? "Thank you, but no," she said firmly. "I'm not at all interested. And even if I was, my father would never let me go. Was there something you were looking for when you came to the courts?"

"Not really. Just watching." Duncan inclined his head at the other practice courts, where a handful of guards were practicing.

"Very well. Lord Dairren, shall we depart then? Dinner will be served shortly, I imagine."

As she walked away on Dairren's arm, she could feel a pair of eyes on her back and controlled the urge to shudder.


	2. Colder Than The Wind That Freezes Founts

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect _for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things_. _They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Colder than the Wind that Freezes Founts<strong>

_No blade cuts deeper_

_Than betrayal by a friend_

_No wound bleeds longer_

_Or is so slow to mend_

∞ Extracted from a poem by Kordilius Myran of the Anderfels in 1:5 Divine

It felt like she had barely closed her eyes when she was woken by her bed sinking down. Her eyes slammed open. The light from the hallway was shining through the doorway, revealing the outline of a man kneeling beside her. She opened her mouth to scream. A large, heavy hand was clapped over her mouth, wafting the odour of unwashed man up her nose. A loud roar broke the silence, and a shadow crashed into her attacker. Duke and the man both went tumbling across the bed. Elissa rolled out of the bed, grabbing for her sword. Levelling her blade, she advanced around the bed. Duke was sitting on top of the armoured man, the helmet torn off and his wide-open jaw mere inches from the sweaty, pale face.

"What is going on?" She pressed the tip of her sword against the bridge of the man's nose, trying to hide the trembling fear and shock still radiating through her body. The blade quivered slightly. "Duke, watch the door. Make sure no-one else comes in."

With one last snarl, the hound slunk off.

She returned her attention to her captive. "I asked you a question."

The man gave her a terrified look. "I-I was ordered, lady."

"To do what?"

"A-attack the castle." He whimpered as her blade pressed a little harder, and a bead of blood trickled down his cheek.

Duke growled.

"Who sent you?" Elissa was trembling with rage. "Who do you serve?"

He cringed. "H-Howe."

Elissa snarled wordlessly. That bastard! "Why?"

A loud bark from behind her drew her attention. She glimpsed a flicker of colour out of the corner of her eye, and she spun, cursing. Elissa ducked an arrow that whizzed past her head, and muscle memory kicked in. Her blade struck armour with a loud clang. Three strokes later, the first of two soldiers lay dead at her feet. Without pausing to consider the first man she'd ever killed, she turned to deal with the second, only to see Duke take a last bite at him before the archer lay still.

Elissa whirled back towards the first man just in time. He'd gotten his hands on his sword, and was rushing at her. She swung her blade to deflect his blow, and then a bow twanged behind her. An arrow sprouted from his throat, and he tumbled to the floor with a bubbling gurgle. Spinning again, her sword dropped as she saw her mother's armoured figure in the doorway, and the tension drained from her spine.

Relief was clearly visible in the older woman's eyes. "Darling!"

"Mother!" Elissa quickly visually checked her mother for injuries. The older woman seemed unharmed.

Eleanor looked down at the bodies. "What's going on here?"

"Howe is attacking the castle," Elissa said grimly. She tugged on the nearest pair of under-trousers, before roughly pulling her steel plate armour off the armour horse. Swearing under her breath, she fumbled it into place. Sweaty fingers slipped on the clasps and buckles as she rushed to dress. Silently, she thanked the Maker that her mother had insisted she learn how to don her own armour without help.

Eleanor blanched. "Why would they attack us?"

"I don't know, Mother, but if we bar the door, we can hold on till our troops—" she began before remembering. "But they aren't here." With an almost audible sound, the pieces fell into place and she gasped. "That's it! Betrayal. Howe attacks us while our troops are gone and we're unable to defend ourselves."

"You don't think Howe's men were delayed on purpose?" Eleanor snarled. "That bastard. I'll cut his lying throat myself."

For a moment, Elissa was taken aback. She'd never heard her gentle mother speak so about anyone, regardless of the 'battle-maiden' tales of her youth. Then she looked down at the dead bodies, and smiled darkly.

"Have you seen your father?" Eleanor's forehead was deeply creased. "He never came to bed."

Elissa's heart froze and she fumbled her breastplate. "No, I haven't. Not since dinner last night." Her fingers slipped again on the buckles, pinching her flesh and she swore under her breath.

Eleanor's jaw clenched. "We must find him, and then flee the castle. Without our soldiers, we don't stand a chance if we stay here."

"I understand."

Eleanor bent over and then straightened, a cloth bag designed to be strapped to the back of a horse in her hand. "My bag was already packed to go with Lady Landra," she said bleakly. "There. Some basic necessities."

Elissa held her hand out for it, and hooked it around her back. Fergus had taught her the trick of trapping the straps on the hooks meant to carry her shield when they two of them had slipped out of the castle as children. It wasn't the most comfortable or convenient way to travel, but it worked. _Not precisely the use Fergus thought his trick would have_, a little voice whispered in her head.

Swallowing, she ignored the voice.

A handful of brass coins had fallen from one of the soldier's pockets, and Eleanor bent to scoop them up. "Anything we can find will be useful." She pressed the coins into her daughter's hand. Feeling faintly disturbed at the idea of looting the dead, Elissa shoved the coins in her bag. Grasping her shield, she quickly moved into the hall, stepping over the dead bodies.

Opposite her room was the dark wooden door that led to Fergus's chambers. There was no light coming from underneath it, and Elissa wondered how Oriana had managed to sleep through the racket and clash of metal on metal. The Antivan merchant's daughter was normally a light sleeper, waking as the men-at-arms shifted in their armour outside the family chambers. She touched the doorknob, expecting the door to be locked, as was Oriana's habit after a lifetime of dodging Antivan assassins. To her surprise, it turned easily. Frowning, she pushed it open.

The stink of blood and guts reached her almost before her eyes registered the scene. Her stomach twisted as she stared, its contents threatening to come back up. Behind her, she heard her mother come to a dead stop.

"No!" Eleanor's words were half way between a gasp and a scream. "My little Oren."

Elissa could scarcely believe that the bloody, mutilated bodies on the floor had once been her pious sister-in-law and bubbly nephew. Blindly, she reached back to draw Eleanor down against her. She could feel warm tears against her skin and seeping under the collar of her armour as her mother cried. Her own eyes refused to leave the grisly sight before them, as though trying to soak up every detail so that she would never forget this moment.

Elissa blinked back her own tears. "They will pay." A crystal vase was shattered on the floor, its water spilled out and white roses were stained with red blood.

Eleanor pushed away from her and turned to kneel facing the two bodies. "This confirms it then. He means to kill all of us." She stood up resolutely and turned away. "Let's go, I can't see this."

Elissa reached out and shut the blankly staring eyes. Her tears trailed down her cheeks and splashed down on the cold, dead skin. Elissa stood up and, guiding her mother out of the room, she shut the door behind them. Howe would die screaming in agony as she pulled out his entrails through his stomach. Or perhaps he would burn alive. She took a deep breath, and then looked at the door leading to the rest of the castle. They would have to fight their way through the castle no doubt.

"Ready?"

Eleanor nodded, her face pale.

Elissa yanked open the door and rapidly brought her shield up. As her opponent's sword clanged against it, she saw a blur of brown as Duke lunged into the room.

Elissa found herself staring up into the steel helmet of a knight. He was stronger than she expected, his two-handed maul whipping around to crash into her. After her knees buckled at the first blow she caught on her shield, she was forced to dance and dodge, not daring to get hit again. A sharp impact in the back of her right shoulder told her that an archer was nearby, but that her armour had deflected the arrow. An angry snarl and a cut-off scream informed her that Duke was taking care of him.

By the time Elissa had managed to thrust her blade through the gap between the knight's helmet and armour, mother and mabari had dealt with the other two soldiers and two archers. The heavy weight on the end of her sword dragged the blade down, and he slid off to crumple to the floor. Blood dripped down her sword and fell to the grey stones, quickly making a small puddle at her feet. A cry brought her attention to where Eleanor stood in the open doorway leading to Lady Landra's room. Elissa could guess what was in there. She drew her mother away from the doorway, closing the door on the bodies of their three guests.

"Come, mother," she murmured. "We have to keep moving."

After a moment, the shorter woman nodded.

Once outside, they could hear the clashing and banging of swords and shields mingling with the cries and screams of dying men. An elven servant lay against the wall, a large bloody wound in his chest showing how he died. The smell of burning wood and charred flesh lingered in the air, and smoke obscured everything more than a couple of feet in front of her. Her throat tightened. This was her home.

Elissa took off down the staircase at a run with Duke at her side and her mother behind her. The sound of clashing swords grew louder. With a yell, Elissa plunged into the battle. Thirteen years of sword training kicked into gear as she parried, dodged and slashed, aiming for weaknesses in the armour where she could. Duke was biting and clawing, his vicious attacks interspersed occasionally with loud howls that inevitably surprised his enemies. She couldn't see Eleanor, but could hear her mother's shouts and yells over the clash of swords. Distantly, she heard the shriek of agonized horses and knew the fire had spread to the stables where the horses were locked in for the night. Copper, the mare she'd ridden for the last four years, was in there. Her opponent's outlined blurred as tears filled her eyes, the knife wrenching deeper into her heart with every pained scream.

Blinking away the tears, she plunged her blade through the gap between arm and chest plate, her sword sinking into soft flesh. Before he'd even hit the floor, she turned to seek out her mother, only to stumble as another arrow impacted against her shoulder. Whipping around, she saw a group of archers standing down the hallway. At the opposite end, a lone Cousland guard fought two mabaris and two soldiers.

"Mother, Duke, down there!" she shouted.

Then she spun and headed for the archers. They were easier to kill than the soldiers had been, fumbling with daggers they were clearly unused to wielding. Each fell in a matter of moments, and Elissa raced back to the other fight.

It took them nearly ten minutes to work their way through the corridors and halls, fighting and killing dozens of Howe's archers and soldiers. The smell of death hung in the air throughout the entire castle, looming like a shadowed cloud over their heads and mingling with the acrid smoke that burned her eyes. Crackling flames licked at the walls, eating their way through priceless wall hangings and furniture. The heat baked her face as she ran, and her fingers grew sweaty inside her gloves.

Bursting into the main hall, Elissa barely had time to scan the hall and realise her father wasn't present before she was desperately defending herself. The shriek of metal against metal was overlaid by the dying screams as soldiers fell around her. Something exploded at her back, and she stumbled forward, nearly impaling herself on the nearest enemy sword. Ducking aside, she caught a glimpse of a mage out of the corner of her eye, his hands flashing as he cast spells. Fear burst in her heart. _A mage_. Her legs trembled, and for a moment there was a remembered scream echoing through her head. Gritting her teeth she whirled back to the soldier she'd been fighting. Five swift blows later, and her opponent's head was rolling on the floor. Without pausing for a breath, she ran for the mage. Another bolt of magic exploded against her chest, shoving her back several steps and radiating pain through her body. Ignoring it, she charged against, smashing her shield into the lightly robed figure. Then Duke was there, biting into human flesh until the mage lay dead on the floor. Elissa stared down at him, her chest heaved with the exertion and the fear still flooding her veins. The mage's face was slack, his mouth open halfway through a spell when he'd died. His blue eyes were staring up at the ceiling, glassy and unseeing. He looked so young, not much older than Elissa herself. A roar from Duke drew her attention back to the fight. Her head jerked up to see an axe-wielding giant bearing down upon her, and she hurriedly lifted her shield.

By the time the hall was emptied of Howe's soldiers. Eleanor was wincing each time she moved, a deep gash in her left arm courtesy of a dagger having slipped through the pieces of her armour. Moving to her side, Elissa braced her mother, taking the bandages offered by another limping soldier and quickly wrapping the wound. Groans of pain echoed through the room, underpinned by the rhythmic thud of a battering ram against the door and the creaking of the wood.

Ser Gilmore's voice was suddenly above them. "Teyrna! My lady! You're both alive! I was certain Howe's men had gotten through."

"They did," Elissa said grimly, not looking up from her mother's arm.

"They killed Oriana…and Oren…" Eleanor's voice shook again, "I can't believe-are you injured?"

Elissa's breath caught in her throat and she straightened, turning towards him. The knight was visibly favouring his left leg and bore a deep gash across his cheek, which still bled sluggishly.

He shook his head. "Don't worry about me, your ladyship. Thank the maker you two are unharmed." His eyes lingered on Elissa, relief clearly visible on his face. "When I realised what was happening, it was all I could do to shut the gates. But they won't keep Howe's men out long. The passage through the kitchen…you had better use it quickly."

"We need to find Father," Elissa said quickly. "Was he down here before? Mother said he did not make it up to bed."

"When I last saw the Teyrn, he'd been badly injured." Gilmore held her gaze. "He went towards the kitchen. I believe he thought to find you at the servants' exit."

"Bless you, Ser Gilmore. Maker watch over you." Eleanor hurried towards the back wall of the Hall.

Of course, Elissa realised. Ser Gilmore would be staying here to defend the keep for as long as possible. He, and the rest of the soldiers at the keep, would be dying here to buy them the chance to escape. Guilt gnawed at her stomach. Elissa hesitated for a moment, and then leaned up to press a gentle kiss against his cheek, hot and sweaty from his exertions.

"Thank you, Rory." The name was strange on her lips.

His eyes softened. "Tell his lordship he is a lucky man."

Elissa stopped and stared at him. "You…know?" Her thoughts raced.

He smiled sadly. "My lady, I was your bodyguard, and it was in your eyes every time you looked at him."

She swallowed. "I'm sorry." She never wanted to hurt him.

"Don't be, my lady."

"My name is Elissa," she said before she could change her mind.

"Elissa," he breathed. "Maker watch over you."

The knight bowed, and with a final glance at her, turned back towards the shuddering gates.

Elissa determinedly didn't look at her mother as she led the way out towards the kitchens.

"That was very well done, darling," Eleanor rested a hand on her shoulder.

Elissa glanced at her mother in surprise. "You…knew?" Eleanor had never given any hint that she'd been aware of the knight's inappropriate infatuation with her daughter.

"About his feelings for you?" Eleanor smiled. "It was somewhat hard to miss. But he was a valued member of our forces, and you seemed to be ignoring it, so we didn't do anything about it." Eleanor offered her the sword in her hand.

It was the Cousland Family blade, Elissa realised instantly. She'd never seen it in use, only hanging up on the wall in the Main Hall. But it was kept in top condition, and was undoubtedly a better blade than Elissa's own. She looked back up at her mother. "Truly?"

"I will not leave Howe get his filthy hands on it. And you are a far better swordswoman than I."

Elissa slid her own blade back into its sheath on her back, and closed her hand around the proffered blade numbly. _The Cousland blade_. It was heavier than her own, but not much, and the deep blue sapphires in the hilt bit into her flesh.

They rounded the corner, nearly running straight into a pair of soldiers.

"Hey!" the archer shouted, and a clatter at the end of the corridor indicated he'd been heard. Elissa jerked her new sword free of its scabbard again, and plunged into the battle.

By the time she opened the door to the kitchen, none of them were uninjured. A blow to her shoulder, though turned by the armour, had left a throbbing that promised to bloom to intense bruising. Another heavy strike had broken her left wrist, which she held gingerly to her chest despite the shield still strapped to it. Eleanor's jaw was sliced, the cut shallow but messy, and her expression spoke of other pain she hadn't admitted to. Even Duke was injured, with two deep gashes along his flank, and he favoured one paw as he followed along behind her.

Relieved to find no more soldiers inside the kitchen and infuriated to see the slaughtered bodies of two elven servants, Elissa followed her mother to the larder door. At first glance it seemed empty, and Elissa felt the fury that had gotten her this far drain, replaced by terror as her pulse skittered and her mouth grew dry.

"There you both are."

Bryce lay on the stone floor, one hand pressed against a large rip in his doublet and his sword abandoned beside him. A pool of red spread out below him, and for a moment she wondered why he was lying in tomato juice. Then she smelt the tang of iron and realised it was blood, weeping from deep wounds all along his body. Elissa's blood froze in her veins. _Father!_ This couldn't be happening!

Eleanor gave a startled cry and raced to his side. "Maker's blood, you're bleeding!" She wrenched her gauntlets off and tried, ineffectually, to staunch the bleeding with her hands. "Elissa, the potions. Hurry!"

Elissa dropped to her knees to root through the bag, pulling out poultices and potions. They slipped through her gauntleted fingers, thudding back into the bag. Cursing, she fumbled the gloves off.

He shook his head. "It…is too late. The injury is too serious."

"The potions will help." Elissa uncapped the first and held it to his lips.

He pushed it away again. "It will…only…prolong the agony."

"What are you saying?" Eleanor breathed, horror painting her face.

"I am dying," he said plainly. "Even with…the false strength of the potions, I would not…survive the standing, I think." His free hand brushed against his wife's cheek, leaving bloody streaks behind, and then fell to the ground as though the effort had drained him.

Eleanor's breath caught audibly in her throat, and a choked sob escaped her. "No!"

Elissa shook her head stubbornly, despite seeing the vicious wounds and knowing that the stab wound in his stomach alone would be fatal. "That's not true! You'll be fine." Despair curled around her heart.

"No." He smiled sadly. "I won't, pup." He held her gaze steadily. "Oren? Oriana?"

"Both dead," Elissa's voice broke.

He closed his eyes. "Ah." A tear ran down his face. "You must…go now. Flee."

"But…you…" Eleanor fumbled for words.

"I dare not slow you down, my love." Bryce lifted himself up partially, and then looked at Elissa. "Someone…must tell Fergus…he…is Teyrn now."

Fury surged back through her veins, her stance hardening.

"And take vengeance!"

If her father must die tonight, then his death would be avenged. Both her heart and her duty agreed with each other there. She would feel the blade sink into Howe's heart herself.

"Yes," Bryce breathed, his normally placid face hardening into a scowl. "Vengeance!" His hand tightened convulsively on his wife's.

Footsteps echoed behind her, and Elissa whirled, her sword already raised defensively. But it was Duncan who entered the kitchen, a pair of bloody swords in his hands. Elissa stiffened.

"Duncan," Bryce croaked. "You survived. I thought you dead."

"No, your grace. I am not that easy to kill." Duncan glanced at the two women. "When I was separated from the Teyrn, I was surrounded by Howe's men."

Bryce coughed painfully. "You…owe me no duty. But I beg you. Take my wife and daughter to safety." His eyes were intent, though vaguely unfocused.

Duncan knelt down beside him. "I will, your grace…but I fear I must ask for something in return."

Elissa couldn't conceal the flash of outrage she felt at his words. Duncan was bargaining? Now?

"Anything," Bryce choked out.

Duncan's face was serious. "The darkspawn are a far greater threat than the King is ready to admit. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. I must have one."

Elissa's head whipped around to stare at the Grey Warden. He wanted a recruit? But they didn't know where anyone was, and they didn't have time to go and find someone.

Bryce's eyes darted to her, and then he looked back at Duncan. "I…understand," he rasped.

Slowly, comprehension dawned on her. He was talking about her. He wanted to recruit _her_. "What? No! I won't agree to any such thing!"

"I want you to live, my darling girl," Bryce said softly. "There is no other way to escape. And I know what the darkspawn can do. They must be stopped."

"I will take the Teyrna and your daughter to Ostagar, to tell Fergus and the King what happened… and then your daughter joins the Grey Wardens," Duncan promised.

"As…you say," Bryce conceded, to Elissa's growing horror.

Duncan turned to her. "Then I offer you a place in the Grey Wardens."

She snarled wordlessly at him, and then turned back. "Father, no! I don't want this." She resisted the urge to flee somewhere, anywhere.

Bryce reached towards her and she gave him her hand, swallowing around the lump in her throat. "I am sorry, my darling." His eyes were sympathetic. "I tried to give you the life you wanted, but the Maker appears to have other plans for you."

"My engagement…" she whispered, feeling her dreams shatter around her.

"He loves you," Eleanor said quietly. "He will accept you anyway."

"Our family…" Bryce took a wheezing, wet breath. "….always does our duty first. The darkspawn must be defeated. You must go. For your own sake and for Ferelden's."

Abandoning that line of defence, Elissa cried: "My duty is to take vengeance on Arl Howe!"

"Howe thinks he'll use the chaos…to advance himself." Bryce stopped to take a breath. "Make him wrong, pup. See that justice is done by the King." Weakened by the conversation, he sagged back against the stone. "Please, Elissa. For me."

Unable to see him suffer any more, Elissa bowed her head. "I will, Father. For you."

She swallowed hard.

"We must leave quickly, then," Duncan said briskly.

Eleanor looked down at her husband. "Bryce…are you sure?"

Bryce's smile was strained. "Our daughter will not die of Howe's treachery. She will live…and make her mark on the world."

The Teyrna seemed frozen for a half second, and then her face hardened with determination. "Darling, go with Duncan."

"What? Aren't you coming?" Elissa demanded.

"You have a better chance to escape without me." The green eyes glimmered with tears.

"No!" Elissa blurted out, horrified.

"Eleanor," Bryce began.

"Hush, Bryce. I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. But I won't abandon you. You are my husband, my lord…and my love. If you must go to the Maker tonight, then we will go together."

"No, I won't let you sacrifice yourself," Elissa protested, reaching to grip her mother's arm. The Teyrna shook her off.

"My place is with your father. At his side, to death and beyond." Eleanor reached up and freed the silver locket from around her throat. She slid the delicate rose-gold signet ring off her right hand. She pressed them into her daughter's palm, closing the nerveless fingers around them. "These are yours now. As is our House."

Elissa stared down at the jewellery in her trembling hand. Neither the necklace nor the Cousland signet ring had ever left her mother's possession for as long as she could remember. The locket she'd never actually seen the inside of, but Elissa had tried on the symbol of her mother's rank only once, and had had to curl her fingers to keep it on.

Movement caught her attention and she looked up to see her father fumbling with his own ring. Her hand dropped as the heavy weight thudded into her palm. It, more than anything else, was the symbol of the Couslands' power. The thick gold bore the Cousland seal, and it too would open the Cousland Treasury, tucked away in the back of the castle.

"Give it to the Teyrn, pup," he wheezed.

The Teyrn. Fergus. Her throat closed up. She nodded, unable to speak.

"I'm so sorry it's come to this, my love," Bryce choked, his hand tightening on Eleanor's.

"We had a good life and did all we could." She gathered her husband close. "It's up to our children now."

Bryce closed his eyes. And then opened them, breathing deeply. "Then, go pup. Warn your brother, and the King."

A loud crash echoed through the castle, and Elissa knew with a sinking heart that the main gates had fallen. Ser Gilmore and the other soldiers would be fighting for their lives at this very moment.

He coughed. "And know that we love you both. You'll do us proud."

She felt Duncan's hand close tightly about her arm, tugging her to her feet.

"We must go now," he said urgently.

"No!" She reached towards her parents. "Mother!"

Duncan was stronger than her, however, and he pulled her away from them.

"Goodbye, darling." Eleanor strengthened her grip on her sword.

"I love you," Elissa gasped out.

Her mother's lips moved, but the door swung shut, plunging them into darkness.

"Come," Duncan's voice echoed off the walls. "We must keep moving."

Feeling bitter tears course down her cheeks, Elissa slipped the necklace over her head and hooked the rings onto her fingers, and stumbled after him.


	3. Stained

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect _for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things_. _They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thanks ever so much to those who favorited/story alerted/reviewed Chapters 1 and 2! You guys are great!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 – Stained<strong>

_From the weak and tender heart of man,_

_Living the soft life untempered_

_By trial and pain _

_Comes_

_Rippling steel and hard edges_

_Forged in the flames of loss and vengeance_

_And quenched in the everlasting waters of duty_

∞ Unknown

_You'll take care of her, Elissa, won't you?_

_Mother can handle herself. Always has._

Tears burned her eyes. She'd made that promise, a careless statement she hadn't thought twice about. Now, her mother lay dead. She had failed. Numbly, Elissa stared at her family sword, set on the forest floor by their crackling campfire. They hadn't had time to go by the Treasury, where her family shield would have been locked up. This was all she had of her family now. The soft hooting of owls punctuated the quiet, overlaying the soft rustle of animals on the ground. She was wrapped in a blanket from Duncan's pack, her ringed fingers clenched around the two necklaces dangling around her neck. The two days since fleeing the castle had passed in silence. She hadn't responded to any of Duncan's attempts to speak to her, sinking instead into her own thoughts and sorrow.

He crouched in front of her, holding out a dented bowl of a thick, grey stew. Mechanically she accepted it, her good manners forcing her to break the silence and murmur her thanks. The thick, tasteless sludge slid down her throat and each mouthful was only another reminder that her home, where food had been carefully seasoned and spiced, was gone. Nan would be dead, slaughtered like the chickens she cooked. Tears began to fall, sliding down pale cheeks.

_Mother. Father. _Elissa swallowed around the lump in her throat, trying not to break down in loud sobs. She could still smell the terrible mixture of smoke, burning wood and flesh, hear the screams of dying soldiers and innocents alike and feel the oppressive heat of the flames. _Dead. Dead. Dead._ Her father, quick-witted and eager to share a joke, had spoiled Elissa all her life. Anything Elissa wanted, she got, whether it was a mabari war hound for her nineteenth birthday or the cascade of hugs and kisses she'd demanded as a child. Unlike many noble fathers, he'd refused to compel her to accept a match, leaving her to pick her own husband. Then there was her mother, so warm and vivacious, quick to scold but equally quick to laugh and forgive. She would have defended her husband until the last moment, buying time for her daughter to escape. Morbidly, Elissa's wondered whether her parents' bodies would be given the dignity of an honourable cremation, or simply tossed to Howe's hounds. As though sensing the direction of her thoughts, Duke nudged her, licking her hand with his warm, wet tongue.

Absently, she carded her fingers through his heavy fur. _Little Oren._ The charming little six-year-old boy, more interested in discovering everything about the world than keeping his clothes clean, despite his mother's desperate attempts to convince him otherwise. He followed her like a puppy whenever she was home, always asking questions and making a general cute nuisance of himself. His broken, bloody body would not leave her mind's eye, sprawled as it was on the floor of his bedroom. He would not be waiting for his father to bring him the sword he promised. _Oriana_. The Antivan woman who had been Fergus's beloved wife for nearly nine years now. Thirteen-year-old Elissa had resented her for stealing her brother's attention, but resentment had faded into acceptance and then into affection as the years passed.

A tall shadow settled next to her, and then Duncan's hand touched her shoulder. "I am sorry for your loss. I know it hurts—"

Her temper flared suddenly, and she shrugged him off angrily, the chains falling from her grasp and thudding against her chest.

"You're sorry for my loss?" she demanded, her voice painfully loud in the quiet of the forest. "My parents lie dead at Howe's hands, and it was you who refused to help them escape. You were their guest, and you condemned them as surely as though you were Howe himself."

She blinked back her tears. She would not cry in front of him, she would not!

"I did what I must," Duncan said soothingly. "Your father was too greatly injured for us to have escaped with him. He would have slowed us down, and we would all have been captured."

"You didn't even try to see if he could make it." Elissa clenched her fists at her sides. "And my mother was uninjured! She could have made it out."

"The Teyrn could not even walk," he said. "And your mother chose to stay behind. I could not force her to leave, not without delaying us even more. Then we all would have died."

"And that made it okay to leave her to her death?" Her eyes flashed. "You dragged me out against my will, why not her?"

"Lady Eleanor was a full grown woman—"

"As am I." She sneered, aware that her face was an ugly mask of rage. Her hand trembled as she set the half-full bowl down on the ground before it spilled. "I'm twenty-two. I was engaged to be married. I'm old enough to make my own damn decisions."

"You are barely more than a child." Duncan shook his head. "I could not leave you to die."

Elissa glared at him. "Then you recruit 'children' to fight in your wars, _Warden_? Is that the only way you can get people to join your Order?" When he made no response, she continued, "and if you 'could not leave me to die', why did you all but tell my father you would only save me if he gave me to the Grey Wardens?"

The light from the campfire played across his face, highlighting his mouth but keeping his eyes in darkness. "We face a Blight. I do what I must in order to preserve Ferelden, Elissa."

"My name," she spat, "is _Lady Elissa_. I don't remember giving you permission to speak so informally to me."

"You are a Grey Warden now," Duncan said sternly. "You have no title. You must leave that life behind you."

"That life?" Her voice grew hysterical. "That life? It's the only life I've ever known. The only life I ever _wanted_ to know. And you want me to simply toss it aside like it was yesterday's rubbish?"

"Not like yesterday's rubbish." Duncan reached for her arm, clearly intending to provide comfort. "But you must look to your future now, not your past. Your parents wouldn't want you to cling to them like this."

She bared her teeth in a silent snarl, and jerked out of his grip again. "How dare you speak of what my parents would have wanted?" It took all her willpower not to slap him, or to turn and storm off into the trees. "You forced my father to trade my freedom for my life, knowing that neither he nor I wanted this! So much for the vaunted reputation of the Grey Wardens!"

"Would you have preferred to die?"

No, in the cool light of day Elissa couldn't say she wanted to die, despite the agony in her heart that she was certain would never fade. "You could have helped me escape, without destroying my life any more than Howe had already done."

"I needed a Grey Warden." Duncan's irritation was beginning to show. "This is a Blight. We need all the Grey Wardens we can get."

"I'm the daughter of a Teyrn. Thanks to you and Howe, one of the last Couslands. Possibly the last if my brother doesn't survive the battle in the south," she snapped. "I was raised to rule a Teyrnir, to direct the politics of lords and kings. To be _someone._ Not some Grey Warden, heroes though you may be. Do you have any idea how many plans you have destroyed?" She was clenching her fist so tightly that the hard edges of her father's signet ring cut into her palm.

"I don't care about plans. I care about saving Ferelden from this Blight. I care about stopping the Archdemon in its tracks." He sighed. "Look, Elissa, I know you're upset with me, and grieving for your family, and I understand that. I didn't enjoy having to get your father's consent that way. Nor yours."

Elissa gritted her teeth. "How do you know I won't run off now?"

"Because you have given your word," he said with quiet confidence. "And if there is one thing I know about Bryce Cousland, it is how much he values his word. He would never have raised a daughter without that same value."

She glared at him helplessly.

"Give it time. You'll see, being a Grey Warden is not the worst thing that could happen." He reached towards her.

She jerked her arm out of his reach, and said nothing.

"You don't have to lose everything from your old life," Duncan added when it became clear she wasn't going to answer him. "You said you were engaged? You can still marry as a Grey Warden."

Elissa laughed bitterly. "What, you want to know who else's life you've just destroyed, old man? It's none of your damn business who I was to wed. He'll never accept me now." Her eyes burned again at the thought.

Duncan's lips thinned; he was clearly fed up. "Ferelden needs Grey Wardens to stop the Blight more than they need another arrogant noble," he said harshly, his eyes glittering. "You want to affect this country's future, madam? Then I suggest you grow up and stop acting like the child you claim not to be. Remember that you are still alive, which is more than hundreds of people at Castle Cousland can say. Learn that sometimes the greater good is more important than an individual person's wishes." He stood up, and then paused to look down at her again. "We're about two weeks from Ostagar but there is a town we should reach tomorrow where we can purchase some basic necessities for you." Without another word, he spun and stalked away to the other side of the fire, looking like an offended cat.

Elissa stared after him in open-mouthed surprise, watching as he ducked into the tent. An owl hooted. Unbidden, tears welled up again. Duke nudged her with his muzzle, and whined. Desperately, she wrapped her arms around him and wept bitter tears into his warm neck.

It was late morning the next day by the time she spotted the gates of a small town in the distance. She took a deep breath and repressed the urge to sneeze as dusty air filled her nose. "Duncan?"

He turned towards her, his eyes cool and wearing a sardonic smile. "Yes?"

She hesitated, before firming her resolve. She was a Cousland, not some weak-willed farm girl. Her life was gone, she had to accept that, lost to Howe's lust for power. Her family was dead, save for Fergus, and she was promised to the Grey Wardens. Her duty bade her follow that promise, and Couslands never shirked their duties. She had no time to waste on 'what-ifs'. Her grief would have to be pushed aside until sometime that she could afford to deal with it, which was most certainly not on the road south. Perhaps she would have time in Ostagar to curl up in the Cousland tent and cry with Fergus. But a Cousland never cried in public, and she had already humiliated herself enough last night by losing her temper. And she could start by recalling her lessons on diplomacy, and _not_ alienating her new commander. She spoke with a carefully neutral voice.

"I would like to apologise for losing my temper last night. It has been a…difficult few days. I appreciate the risk you took in bringing me out, and not simply fleeing on your own."

Duncan's surprise showed in his widening eyes, before he controlled his expression. "There is no need to apologise. I understand. I too should apologise for speaking so bluntly, particularly when you have not yet had time to grieve."

The click of hooves on the uneven road heralded the arrival of a pair of merchants in a cart, rumbling in the opposite direction. A bay gelding and an older grey mare trotted towards them, dragging a heavy wooden cart behind them. The two men atop the cart, looking travel-worn and weary, ignored the two walkers at the side of the road.

Elissa waited until they were past before continuing. "Not at all. You simply reminded me that the world carries on despite my own pain, and that I don't have time for luxuries like a mental breakdown or self-pity." She squared her shoulders, ignoring the protest from her aching muscles, soft from castle life despite her intensive battle training. "And I have not given up on my quest for vengeance. Merely…delayed it. Shall we keep going?"

An hour later, she was in the marketplace, armed with the handful of silvers and she'd found tucked in the bottom of the bag her mother had given her and a few coins from Duncan to buy food supplies. Like any town, it was heavy with the scent of dog from the abundant animals weaving in and out of legs. Brightly coloured stalls lined all four sides of the square and the air was filled with the shouts of sellers advertising their goods. She made a beeline for the nearest clothes-stall. Three days in one set of clothes and armour, washed once in a river and then put on wet, was more than enough. Her mother's clothes, while in the bag, were not wearable. Eleanor…had been much taller and much thinner than her daughter. Elissa blinked back the burning sensation in her eyes.

"What you lookin' fer, ser?" a young girl, no more than thirteen, asked. She was neatly dressed in a much-mended dress, and bright green ribbons held back blonde hair.

"Clothes for me." Elissa smiled at her, hoping it didn't look as fake as it felt. She lied: "I'm afraid my horse bolted with all my clothes."

"We only 'ave a couple of shirts and trousers for women, ser," another female voice said. "Not much call for it out 'ere. There'd be better options in dresses."

Elissa looked up to meet the eyes of the mother. "I understand. But, as you see, dresses don't quite fit under the armour." No, beautiful dresses were most probably a thing of her past. She thought wistfully of her mother's last gift to her, a stunning white-and-rose gown that whispered every time she moved. Swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat, she shoved the thought aside.

"We've just the one shirt in your size." The mother shuffled through the folded garments on the table. She held up a plain off-white shirt with a dark brown collar and a matching pair of trousers.

Elissa took it, feeling the material. It was quite ugly, and nothing like the quality of her own clothes of course, but it seemed sturdy and well-made. The heavy cotton would be warm enough and not too heavy even if it got wet as it undoubtedly would. And frankly, even if she could find something better, she would never be able to afford it. "How much?"

"Two silvers, ser."

Elissa raised her eyebrows. "I'll give you forty-five coppers." She wasn't new to bargaining, as she'd often walked the markets in Cousland Town, just south of the castle. It was, however, the first time she'd bargained for anything other than jewellery, bolts of delicately embroidered cloth, and frippery.

"It's 'andmade, ser. I couldn't accept anything less than a silver and thirty." The woman opened the garment, pointing to the hem. "Look at the stitchin'. My mother-in-law's work. Finer work you'll never see."

"It's a plain garment, without any embroidery," Elissa countered. "No more than sixty-five coppers."

"A silver," the other insisted.

Elissa considered it, and then sighed. "Look, I also need undergarments…and a warm cloak. Let me look at those before I decide."

"Undergarments are 70 coppers per set, ser." The mother led her to the side. "I 'ave only a few cloaks. But these, I sewed myself."

Elissa examined the offered garments. One was a plain dark brown cloak, which would reach to her ankles. That would be impractical if she ended up in a fight. Which, she considered grimly, was increasingly likely in her new life. The other two were dark green. One was plain and the other was embroidered with the green teardrop and spears of Highever emblem. Both would reach to her knees. "How much for the green ones?"

"The plain is 4 silvers too, ser. The embroidered one, 6."

She worried her bottom lip for a moment with her teeth. She wanted the embroidered one, for its memory of her past. But could she justify the two silvers, or however much it ended up being after negotiation, more? "If I take the shirt and trousers, three undergarments and the embroidered cloak, what's the best deal you can give me?"

The woman looked at her. Elissa hoped that the dirt and dust from three days travel and a bloody fight would conceal the expensive quality of her armour. She already knew her chestnut brown hair looked little better than a rat's nest, and despite her bath the day before, her face was grimy. And she suspected she smelled.

"I could do 8 silvers. But no less than that," the woman said at last.

Elissa calculated quickly in her head. She'd found thirty silvers and thirty-five coppers in the bag. That would need to cover her until Duncan paid her a salary of some kind, which she had no idea when that would be. She still needed to buy a bedroll, a water-skin, a tent if she could afford it, a comb, and some ribbons to deal with her hair. And they were staying in the inn tonight. Swallowing, she counted out the coins, hoping she was making the right decision.

As she bent to slip her purchases into her bag, the tramp of boots on stone echoed through the marketplace.

"Way!" bawled a high-pitched male voice. "Make WAY for the Arl of Amaranthine."

Elissa froze, anger washing over her like a tidal wave of fire. That bastard was here! Out of the corner of her eye she could see the front row of solders making its way through the town. Villagers were scrambling over themselves to get out the way, and one child was snatched nearly from under the feet of the soldiers. The smell of steel and unwashed male billowed ahead of them like a cloud. Howe's self-satisfied face was only a handful of rows back, and easily visible from on a horse's back.

She could have her vengeance here, not waiting till after the darkspawn were vanquished or until Cailan had time to deal with him. She could have the satisfaction of his death at _her_ hand instead of in the hangman's noose. Her hand tightened on the dagger at her waist. He was over-confident, not even wearing his helm. Knife throwing was not her strength, but he was moving slowly and she was certain she could kill him. She could almost see the sharp edge sinking into his flesh, as vulnerable as Oren's had been as they stabbed him to death on the floor of his bedroom. She shifted her weight slowly, judging the distance and the angle she'd need to throw it at. Her hand tingled at the certainty of success.

_Our daughter will not die of Howe's treachery,_ her father's voice suddenly echoed in her head. _She will live…and make her mark on the world. _The words turned her muscles to lead. If she threw here, his soldiers would slaughter her. Howe would win, and her parents' death would be in vain. No, she could not take her vengeance here. But it was so tempting. She snarled silently.

Slowly, the soldiers marched past. Howe's unarmoured back revealed itself to her, and she had to grip her hands together to keep from throwing the blade after him. She watched his retreating profile. _You bastard!_

An hour later she flung open the door to Duncan's room in the little inn, still fuming. A narrow bed was pressed against the far wall and a small bedside table beside it. On the wall a simple painting was hung, and beneath it Duncan had placed his pack.

He looked up calmly from where he was polishing his armour. "My lady?"

She stopped in her tracks. "I thought you said Wardens didn't keep their titles?"

Duncan gave her a considering look. "Close the door, and come and sit down." He nodded towards a wooden seat in the corner.

As she did, she suddenly realised that she was alone in a bedroom with a man she barely knew in the middle of nowhere. She shifted nervously to the edge of the seat, resisting the urge to open the door again.

"Officially Grey Wardens cannot hold titles," Duncan said slowly. "But unofficially, it is true that some Wardens of particularly high birth keep using their titles. Merely as a courtesy, of course."

"Then why did you—"

"I was trying to make a point." Duncan's smile was rueful. "As I said earlier, I could have gone about it better."

"Yes, you could have," she said, before she could stop herself. She glanced up, but he seemed to have taken no offence. "Do you often have nobles in the Wardens?"

"More than you would think." Duncan shrugged. "Many people consider it an honour to be part of our ranks." Except you, he left unsaid.

Her lips thinned in response. No, I don't think it's an honour. But I gave my word to my father, and to you, and I will see it through."How many wardens are there in Ferelden then?"

"Twenty-eight. But we are a small Order here. It has not been so long since King Maric lifted the ban on the Order."

Twenty-eight against a Blight did not sound like very good odds, but she didn't say it. But then, with the armies of Ferelden behind them, they wouldn't need that many. In the end it wouldn't matter whether it was a Warden or a foot soldier that killed the Archdemon.

"Did you want something when you came in?" he asked mildly.

Oh, opened her mouth, and then checked herself. What could she say? Howe was in the courtyard, but I didn't kill him because his soldiers would kill me. What point would it serve for him to know that? She rose to her feet, suddenly missing the swishing skirts that would once have accompanied such a movement. "It's nothing, Duncan."

He gave her a measuring look. "Very well. Did you get the supplies you needed? And the food?"

She nodded wordlessly. She'd bought everything she had planned, except the tent. The merchant she'd found was demanding over ten golds for it, and she didn't have the coin left after the rest of her purchases.

"Good. Bring the supplies here after we sup tonight and we'll separate them between the packs." He examined her. "Order a bath from downstairs before dinner, and then sleep early tonight. You're not used to the days of travel, and once we're on the road again, we'll begin your training."

She resisted the urge to snap at him. She was _quite_ aware of the aches in her muscles, thank you very much. Muscle strength from battle training was very different from walking for twelve hours a day, sitting up half the night on watch and then sleeping on cold, hard earth, even though the padding of Duncan's bedroll. She anticipated a very painful two weeks to Ostagar, although at least she'd have her own bedroll. "Training?"

"You're a good warrior." Duncan raised an eyebrow. "But there is much you still have to learn about fighting if you hope to survive this war. Darkspawn do not fight honourable duels."

"I know how to fight in a war." She glared at him. "I wasn't taught to fight so that I could fight in tournaments. I learnt to defend myself and others from anyone who attacked me."

"Maybe," Duncan allowed. "But have you used that training before?"

"Two nights ago, when my family was murdered," she said flatly.

Duncan winced. "True. But I think subconsciously, you still expect your opponents to fight you with a certain level of honour. It is nothing to be ashamed of, my lady. It is a natural part of your upbringing and the sort of fighting you did. But as a Warden, you will fight darkspawn who have no idea of the concept of honour. When we duelled, there were a hundred ways a darkspawn opponent could have disarmed or killed you."

"I understand," she conceded doubtfully. "If you will excuse me, I will go and look for that bath."

Without another word she turned and stalked out of the room.


	4. Old and New Friends

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect _for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things_. _They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thanks ever so much to those who favorited/story alerted Chapter 3! You guys are great!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 – Old and New Friends<strong>

_A furry friend is the heart_

_And soul of its master_

_The loss of a mabari hound_

_Renders life dark and bitter_

_And a despair that knows no bounds_

∞ A poem by an unknown Mabari owner in Fereldan

Somewhat sunburnt by two weeks of hard travel, Elissa looked up at the white ruins of Ostagar. The tower spiralled into the sky, a beacon for weary travellers, while the rest of it sprawled over two cliffs and was joined by a single bridge. As she followed Duncan up the gleaming ramps, the wind whistled its way past her, whipping through her hastily bound hair. Hanging from her belt, her gauntlets thumped against her thigh. A chorus of distant barks went up and she smiled faintly. Cailan had brought his mabari hounds.

"This way." Duncan led her past a pair of nervous, wary sentry guards. They were largely ignored by the soldiers in the camp, until they reached a cordoned off area of grey tents.

"Duncan!" a voice exclaimed. A short, heavily muscled man in heavy armour approached them with a wide grin. The two men clasped forearms. "And who is this?"

"Adelveid, this is our latest recruit, Elissa. Elissa, this is one of the Wardens, Adelveid."

Adelveid's eyes swept her body. "And she can fight?" His gaze lingered on Elissa's unmarred skin. "She doesn't look battle-hardened."

Her eyes flashed. "Looks can be deceiving."

He grunted. "Well, at least you have a spark. You're a real warrior then? Not some willowy archer?"

"Archers are just as valuable," Duncan said mildly.

"No use once those blasted quick buggers creep up on you," Adelveid retorted. "Well, girl?"

"I can use both a sword and shield, and a bow." She glared at him.

"An axe?"

"I know how." But she hadn't touched one in years, to be honest.

"A two-handed sword?"

She pursed her lips. "No."

"Leastwise you admit it." He considered her. "I still don't like it, Duncan. We have few girls in the Order for a reason. And this one doesn't look like much."

Her hackles rose, and Duke growled at her side. "What gives you the authority to judge me like that?"

Duncan cleared his throat. "He's my second-in-command."

_Oops_, she thought to herself. Despite the faux pas, Elissa refused to back down, meeting him stare for stare.

Adelveid grinned, and clapped her on the shoulder. She flinched. "More than just a spark, I see. Glad to see it. Welcome to the Grey Wardens." He held out his hand.

She hesitated a moment and then reached out to take his hand as she'd seen her father do before. It was somewhat of an odd sensation, having her hand shaken instead of kissed. She retracted her hand hurriedly. "Thank you."

"Where are the others?" Duncan looked around the Grey Warden camp.

"Your little protégé is off running messages in the main camp. The twins are at the armourers, and the others are up at the practice grounds."

Duncan nodded, and then turned towards Elissa. "Leave your things there, in my tent, for the moment. You can put up your own tent later."

Elissa hurried to the tent he pointed out, and then set her bag on the floor of the canvas tent. After a moment she discarded the shield as well, although she kept the sword of Highever strapped to her back. She wasn't going to let that out of her sight for even a moment.

Duncan was waiting alone when she returned to him. He nodded briskly. "Good. Now, let us see to the king."

Once again Elissa found herself following Duncan through the maze of tents. It was loud with the chatter of men and the scrape of blades against metal. The smell of stew cooking over an open fire drifted through the camp. While not particularly appetizing, it did smell better than the dried rations she'd lived on for the past two weeks.

Duncan moved unerringly towards a large yellow tent adorned with brilliant tassels, and watched by three armed guards in silver armour. All three straightened at their approach, their armour clinking as they moved. "Warden-Commander."

"Is the King in?"

Her heart beat faster.

"Yes, ser." The guard glanced at Elissa curiously.

"Inform his Majesty that Duncan and the new Grey Warden recruit await him, if he has a moment," Duncan told him.

"Yes, ser." A different guard ducked into the tent. He re-emerged after a moment. "You can go in."

Gathering herself, she followed Duncan through the tent flap. Light streamed in through the canvas, casting light around the opulently furnished interior. Locked chests, low wooden tables and heavy carpets filled the royal tent, and a figure in golden armour was standing beside the deep red couch. Elissa groaned under her breath. _Oh__,__ Maker_. He'd actually gone and ordered the damn armour. Anora would be hopping mad, no doubt. Elissa could still recall the shouted arguments they'd had in the royal apartments for days, with both women trying to convince Cailan that he really didn't need to draw any more attention to himself in golden armour on the battlefield. But then, what did a wife and a close friend's opinion ever mean against that of a favoured mistress?

"Ho there, Duncan!" Cailan greeted him, as bubbly as ever. The light gleamed off his shoulder-length blond hair, carefully braided at the temple.

Duncan offered him a brief bow. "Your Majesty."

"I thought you were going to miss all the fun." Cailan strode across the room and clasped forearms with the Warden.

Elissa sighed. She'd hoped that with an actual battle on his doorstep, Cailan would have finally realised that war was not all fun and games. Clearly not.

"Not if I can help it, your Majesty."

Cailan beamed. "I'm glad. It wouldn't have been like the old stories at all if you weren't."

_Oh__,__ Cailan_….

Duncan smiled. "There were other Wardens here, your Majesty."

"But not the Warden-Commander of Ferelden." He clapped Duncan on his shoulder. "No matter. We will march into glory together, my friend." He tried to peer around him. "And this is your new recruit?"

"Yes, your Majesty," Duncan began.

Elissa stepped out from behind him.

Cailan's eyes widened. "Ellie!"

She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed. A faint, but real, smile curved her lips for the first time since that fateful night. "Forgive me for not curtseying, your Majesty."

"Oh, stuff that." Cailan swept her into a tight hug. She froze for a moment and then went limp in his strong embrace for a moment, letting herself bask in the familiar grasp. He set her down at last, kissed her cheek and then stared down at her. "What in the name of Andraste are you doing here? I thought you were staying in Highever, getting some experience with running a castle? And where is your father? We are still awaiting his arrival."

All smiles fled Elissa's face.

"Lady Elissa is my recruit, your Majesty." Duncan looked faintly bemused at the interaction between the two.

"You recruited Ellie?" Cailan stared at them in disbelief. "I would never have thought the Teyrn would have let you come to battle. Especially given the, er, recent developments." He met her eyes, and then the smile on his youthful, unlined face wobbled at whatever he saw. "Ellie. What's happened?"

Her voice was flat. "It is my duty to inform you, your Majesty, that the Teyrn and Teyrna Cousland are dead, along with the rest of Highever Castle, at the hands of Arl Howe."

"What?" Cailan gaped at her.

"They're," her voice cracked, "d-dead."

"B-but Howe is a friend of your father's!"

A snarl escaped her lips. "Apparently not," she hissed venomously.

Despite his evident fury, Cailan's arms were gentle as he tugged Elissa against his chest. "I'm so sorry."

She dug her nails into her palms, feeling the sharp pain. "So am I."

"He will pay for what he has done," the king vowed. "What he has done is treason. I will see his head on a pike outside the palace." He named the punishment for treason, the very price that his mother had paid when captured by the Orlesians.

"No!" She pulled back from the comfort of his embrace. "His death is mine! Mine and Fergus's!"

"Ellie…"

Her eyes flashed. "No, Cailan. It wasn't you who encountered your nephew's body ripped to shreds on the floor of his bedroom. Nor you who had to leave your parents to die so that you had a better chance of escaping!"

"But it was my subjects he killed. People I am sworn to protect." Cailan shook his head.

"And it was _my_ servants who were cut down as they fled the castle. _Fergus_'s wife and child slaughtered in their beds." There was a shuffle of noise outside the tent, as the guards reacted uneasily to her raised voice.

"Lady Elissa," Duncan broke in, his expression disapproving. "Your duty as a Grey Warden comes first."

She didn't bother looking at him. "I will not forsake my duty to your Order, Duncan. But neither will I forget my duty as a daughter and as a Cousland."

"I am the king, Lady Elissa! I cannot sanction private vengeance. No matter how much you want it."

The look in Cailan's eyes as his gaze met hers was not entirely him. It was The King looking back at her.

Gritting her teeth, she bowed her head. "Yes, your Majesty."

She had no intention of obeying that directive.

Then Cailan was back again, as he asked, "How did this lead to you becoming a Warden?"

"Teyrn Cousland consented to the recruitment, your Majesty," Duncan said. "He acknowledged the need for more Wardens in this troubled time."

Elissa's lips tightened.

"I am surprised at that." Cailan eyed her. "_He_ will not be happy, Ellie."

"I am aware of that," she said grimly. "Where is Fergus? I need to tell him."

He looked pained. "I'm sorry, Ellie. He's scouting the Wilds."

"So Highever's former Teyrn lies dead in his own castle, its current Teyrn is scouting darkspawn in the midst of the Horde and its only heir is about to become a Grey Warden?" Elissa demanded. "When will he be back?"

Cailan winced. "He's supposed to be back the day after tomorrow."

Duncan cleared his throat. "Your uncle sends his greetings, and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week."

"Ha!" Cailan scoffed. "Eamon just wants in on the glory. We've won three battles against these monsters and the next few should be no different. I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted God! But without an Archdemon around, I suppose this will have to do." He sighed. Then he brightened. "Ellie, I expect you for dinner tonight."

Duncan frowned. "Excuse me, your Majesty, but perhaps it would be better if Elissa got to know her new comrades-in-arms?"

"Nonsense! She has days to do that. I haven't seen my friend in months. I really do insist." He turned hopeful eyes on her.

She bit her lip, and then nodded. "As you wish, Cailan."

"Splendid!"

There was a cough near the door, and Elissa turned to see a guard standing in the doorway. "Your Majesty, the mages are looking for you and the Teyrn. Do you wish to receive them in here?"

"No. I'd like to get out of this damn tent." Cailan shuddered. "Duncan, is there anything else? Ellie?"

"No, your majesty."

She shook her head.

"Then I bid you farewell. I shall see you later." Cailan ushered them outside. A pair of robed mages stood nearby, and Elissa suppressed a shiver. Duncan inclined his head to the king, and Elissa quickly bowed again. She watched as Cailan walked away to join the mages, the bright sun flashing off his golden armour. She could feel Duncan's gaze resting on her.

"Come, Elissa." Duncan moved away from the tent. She followed him for the length of several brightly coloured tents before he broke the silence. "You have an…interesting relationship with the King," he said at last, his face inscrutable.

"We spent a lot of time together when I was a child." Elissa didn't look at the Warden-Commander. Distantly, she heard the echoing thump of a blacksmith's hammer, and she could smell the familiar tang of metal armour filling the air.

"He is substantially older than you," Duncan eyed her.

She ignored the undercurrent in his voice. "Not really. He is but three years, and the Queen is six years. But my brother and I were the only children of similar rank, and so we were often forced together." Every time they were in Denerim, she'd been dropped off in the royal nursery while her parents were off with the late King and Queen. They'd had to learn to get along, she thought wryly, or else it would have been a very uncomfortable time for them all. "Was he right, about the Blight?"

Duncan shook his head slowly. "As I told your father, the Blight is far more serious than the King has been willing to admit. But I cannot force him to listen to me." He looked up at the sky. "I have things I must be doing."

Elissa glanced at him. "What do I do?"

"Feel free to explore the camp," Duncan told her. "You already know where the Wardens are camping. There may be some Wardens there for you to meet. You could set up your tent now if you like. If you meet Alistair, ask him to show you around. He can show you where to get lunch, if you are hungry."

"That was the warden Adelveid mentioned." Alistair. The name sounded vaguely familiar for some reason.

"Yes." Duncan nodded. "He is our newest Warden. He's about your age, you should get along well."

Elissa raised her eyebrows. They would see about that. "What does he look like?"

"A little taller than you, blond, most likely armoured and carrying a shield with the Grey Warden crest," Duncan answered. "He shouldn't be too hard to find."

"All right."

"I will see you later."

Elissa watched him go for a moment, patting Duke's head with her left hand. "Come on, boy. Let's do this then." She glanced around, trying to decide which way to go. The sound of barking drew her towards the left. The familiar sound of prayer came from a priestess on a nearby platform, a counterpoint to the rough barks of the mabari hounds howling up ahead. She approached the mabari kennels, Duke yipping at the sight of his own kind. It took her only a moment to spot several very familiar looking dogs.

"Excuse me, ser." A tall man standing nearby put his hand out to stop her reaching over the barrier. His brow was furrowed above black eyes, much like those of the dogs he was watching over. "These are the King's mabari. They tend not to like people they don't know."

Elissa laughed. "They know me…" she squinted at the insignia on his tunic, "Kennel Assistant." Lucky bounded up to her, his wide, wet tongue licking her hand enthusiastically. With her free hand she scratched the top of Bridget's head. The fur was warm and soft, a counterpoint to the sharp teeth peeking out below.

"You serve with the King's mabari?" The man frowned, as though trying to place her face.

"No." Elissa shrugged. "But I am a frequent visitor to the kennels. You must be new."

"Yes, ser." The assistant frowned. "I was hired two months ago."

"That's why you don't know me," Elissa smiled. As Lucky rolled over, she rubbed his stomach. "Have you been a good boy, Lucky?" The dog barked gleefully.

"My lady!" another voice, this one familiar, called.

Elissa twisted, spotting the short man striding towards them. "Kennel Master."

"I didn't know you were coming." He bowed formally, his red hair swinging freely in a wild mass. His skin was weathered from spending his days in the open sun with his charges, and he bore a long scar down the side of his face where a young pup had laid open his face two years before.

She hid the pain behind a false smile. "It was a last minute decision."

"Well, the hounds are glad to see you, your ladyship." He gestured with a large hand towards the hounds eagerly licking her hand. "But I have to take them for their meals before they get grumpy. You could come and visit them later."

"I will," she promised. Turning, she found herself facing a familiar green and bronze tent. _Well then_. Her stomach clenched. Taking hold of her courage with both hands, she walked towards Loghain's tent, wondering whether Cailan had told him what had happened.

"You approach the camp of Teyrn Loghain," the helmeted guard called sternly. "State your business."

"I'm Elissa Cousland," she said, watching his expression change. "Is the Teyrn within?"

"He is," a deep voice said from behind the guard. Loghain Mac Tir emerged from the tent, his silver River Dane armour gleaming in the sun. "Lady Cousland."

Well, that answered that question, she thought grimly. She crossed her arms across her chest and bowed. "Your Grace." As she straightened, she let her eyes drink in the sight of him. His black hair, still untouched by white, had a single thin braid dangling from each temple, the rest of it brushed back. Darkened circles beneath deep-set pale blue eyes told her he hadn't been sleeping well, most likely staying up to plan strategy or argue with Cailan.

"Come." He gestured to her, holding open the tent flap.

She slipped past him, catching a whiff of his familiar scent of open grass fields and forests, under the strong stench of silverite armour. The interior of the tent was simple, with only a bed, a couple of chairs and a desk covered in maps and parchment. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the tent, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

He faced her. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Elissa."

"Thank you," she said evenly.

His hands twitched. For him that was the equivalent of holding out his arms. Tears she'd been holding back for two weeks rushed up inside her, and her knees buckled. He caught her, wrapping both arms around her waist and pulling him against her.

"It hurts," she whispered. "They're all dead, and it hurts." Duke nudged her with his head.

"I know." He brushed her tears away with a gentle thumb, his fingers lingering on her skin.

Her shoulders shook. "Why did he did he do it? What have we ever done to him?"

"Sometimes you don't have to do anything. Some people just want power," he said bitterly.

The metal of his armour was cool and bit into the flesh of her hands, but she pressed closer to him regardless. His body was solid and strong, and _there_, even through the thick metal of their armour. He was steady and unchanging, exactly as she'd left him nearly four months ago. It was exactly what she needed. She let the tears fall against his neck, and curled more tightly into the only safe haven she had, now that her parents were gone.

At length, she gathered herself together, pulling her shattered emotions together and pushing away her grief into the locked corner of her heart yet again. "Thank you."

His arms tightened in response, keeping her from escaping. "Cailan said he told you Howe would die for what he did to you."

Elissa nodded against his breastplate. "Yes."

"Good," he said gruffly. He cleared his throat. "There was also something about you having been recruited into the Wardens."

She pulled out of his arms, anticipating his reaction. She would need to stand on her own two feet for this confrontation. "Yes."

He stiffened. "Are you mad? Why in Maker's name do you want to be a Warden? They're just a cover for the Orlesians, damn it!"

Duke growled defensively, his muscles tensing. She caught his collar, shooting her dog a warning look. "The Grey Wardens fight the darkspawn and the Blight. I know you don't trust them, but you know I would never defend Orlesian interests in Ferelden, even as a Warden."

"This is no damned Blight," he growled.

"Duncan thinks it is."

His mouth twisted. "Yes well, you'll forgive me for not agreeing with that fool." He turned to pace.

_Fool? _Duncan was a lot of things, but she hadn't seen anything that would make him a fool. "He seems very sure of himself."

"Of course he is." He whirled towards her. "The Orlesian wants any reason to bring in the bloody Chevaliers! I've been trying to talk Cailan down from opening the borders for weeks now. If he had his way, we'd be neck deep in Chevaliers and a heart-beat from being under the Orlesian yoke once again."

Elissa frowned. "He's not Orlesian. He's Ferelden."

"But he lived in Orlais," he snapped. "I don't trust his loyalties, and you shouldn't either." He resumed his pacing. "We fought for our freedom, Maric, Rowan and I. Why is everyone so determined to undo all we've done?"

"My father fought in those battles as well," she said sharply. "I've heard what it was like under the Occupation, and I have _no_ desire to see the Orlesians back. Whether I am a Warden or not."

"You didn't live it." He glared at the tent wall.

"No." She took a breath. "I didn't. But I've studied history and I've heard my parents' nightmares." She reached for his arm.

He whirled towards her, jerking his arm from her grip. "I could forbid this." His eyes flashed.

She bristled, her hand dropping back to her side. "I am not yet your wife, Loghain." _And even if I was, I wouldn't roll over any easier._

Loghain's face hardened. "We have signed the betrothal documents. You are honour bound to listen to me."

"Since when have I ever reacted well to being told what to do?" She glared at him. "And I should slap you for that. If I listen to you, _my love_, it certainly will not be because of honour or a duty that does not exist till we are wed!"

He stiffened, and then the anger seemed to drain from him. "Elissa."

He reached for her hands, but she snatched them away. "You speak as though this was a political marriage and I one of those simpering noblewomen you've had throwing themselves at you for years." She crossed her arms across her chest. "You may be the Teyrn of Gwaren and my betrothed but I am Elissa Cousland. No man can order me around."

"I…I know." Loghain closed his eyes for a moment. "Forgive me. I meant no offence."

If she hadn't been so insulted she'd have gaped at him. Loghain, apologising? As it was, she was far too hurt. "You meant no offence?" she demanded incredulously. "You just tried to order me like your servant!"

"I spoke without thinking." He turned his hands palm up. "I am sorry. You are right, of course." He sighed. "You are certain this is what you want to do?"

_No._ "Yes."

He looked up at her slowly. "If I must…accept this, will you at least tell me why, then?"

She braced herself. "In exchange for helping me escape Castle Cousland, my father agreed with Duncan that I should become a Grey Warden."

Loghain's eyes widened. "What?"

She winced. That probably hadn't been the best way to phrase it.

"Your Grace?" a tentative voice came from the guard outside. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Loghain said curtly, before turning back to her. "He blackmailed you into agreeing to become a warden?" He looked ready to charge out of the tent and cut Duncan down where he stood.

"Don't." She caught his arm in a grip she was quite sure hurt her unprotected hands a lot more than it did his armour.

He snarled. "Why not? It was bad enough when I thought it was your choice, but now? Now he goes too far!"

Her shoulders straightened, and she stared him in the eye. "I don't agree with what he did." She remembered with grim amusement the tantrum she'd thrown at Duncan. But she'd had two weeks to think about it, and come to an uneasy truce with her future since then. "But I can accept he did what he thought he had to."

The fury hadn't abated in his face. "So?"

"What good would killing him do? I will still become a Grey Warden." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I gave my word and I refuse to break this promise. I have never shirked my duty before, and I'm not going to start now."

"It was a promise you should never have had to make."

"Maybe not." She straightened her back. "But I am a _Cousland_, bound by my word to Duncan as well as my promise to my father. _And I_ _will not break it_." Her mouth was set in a stubborn line, and she refused to look away.

"You have far too much of the Cousland pride and stubbornness." Loghain scowled, but his tone was resigned. "Very well. If this is what you want."

"It is," she said firmly. As her spine lost its tension, Duke relaxed by her side, sensing the threat to his owner was gone.

"I am increasingly glad I gave you that armour, then." Loghain sighed. "Though this does make things more complicated."

_And this was where the axe would fall_, she thought. "I understand," she locked her voice, refusing to let it waver. Her stomach twisted. "You'll want this back, then?" She reached for her neck and drew the silver chain over her head.

His hand closed around her wrist, halting the movement. "What are you doing?" He stared at her the necklace and ring suspended in her hands. "You thought I'd end our betrothal because you've been conscripted?"

Elissa tugged her wrist free and clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. "Won't you?" She fought to keep her voice steady. "My duty is now to the Grey Wardens…and apparently Wardens cannot hold titles or get involved in politics." She willed him to leave it there, to let her go off and lick her wounds in private.

Loghain scowled heavily. "That's why I said it would be complicated, but I never meant that I would end this. I thought you knew me better than that." His gaze searched her face. "Damn it, Elissa, why are you being like this?"

She kept her voice steady only with great effort. "Because you deserve someone who can be everything you need. A wife who can bring you political strength, help you run Gwaren and provide an heir to the Teyrnir now that Anora is Queen. Not someone who will spend her entire life running around after darkspawn and whatever else Grey Wardens are supposed to do."

"You know I don't care about politics or heirs," Loghain growled. "My steward can run Gwaren as he's done since Celia's death. I don't want a Teyrna; I want a wife I won't be tempted to throw off the nearest cliff."

She couldn't help the smile at the familiar statement.

His face blanked. "Unless this is your way of saying _you_ want to end the betrothal?"

"No!" she said instantly. "No, I don't. I love you. But…"

"Then, I am not letting you go, Warden or not. You made me a promise too." He took her shoulders and shook her lightly. "We will announce our betrothal next month as we planned, and we will marry next year. If Duncan says you can't, Cailan will get involved. Duncan will not put up a fuss over one recruit in the face of the King's objections. We will find a way."

"All right." She could feel her shoulders relaxing.

He touched her cheek softly. "Then we are done with this foolishness?"

"Yes."

"Good." He took the necklace from her hands, his warrior's hands nimbly sliding the delicate silver ring from it. Without a word, he took her hand and slipped it onto her third finger, next to her mother's signet ring, before closing her fist around the empty chain. "I have work to do. But I will see you for dinner tonight."

She hesitated, wondering if she dared ask. Then she looked up into blue eyes. "Can I…stay the night?" Both of them knew she was asking much more than that.

His hands tightened on hers. "Elissa." Their courtship, though far more affectionate in their own way than most noble courtships, had not moved quite that far. Elissa had always been painfully aware of her duty to her family, and to her future husband, to go to her marriage bed a virgin.

"Please," she whispered. "I…don't want to be alone."

He looked torn. "I cannot…will not take advantage of your grief."

"It's not grief. I love you," she said a little more firmly. "And with the war, and the Wardens…I don't know when we'll marry. And if I die in the battle, I don't want to die without…loving."

"You won't die." His eyes flared.

"Please," she repeated.

His gaze softened further, and he slowly nodded. "All right." He bent to kiss her chastely.

Relief flooded her, and she clung to him.

"I really do have to work," he said after a long moment. She reluctantly let him hurry her from his tent. As she walked away, she looked down at the ring. She'd only ever worn it once, when he'd first offered it to her after her father agreed to the marriage. After that day, she'd hidden it on the necklace around her throat until the betrothal would be publicly announced. Her thumb slid over the smooth metal.

A man crashed into her, sending her sprawling to the floor. She blinked to clear her eyes and found herself staring up into the face of one of the knights.

"Watch where you're going, girl!"

"Excuse me?" she demanded, climbing to her feet. For a moment she wished she was tall enough to look down her nose at him. "I believe you were the one who crashed into _me_."

He opened his mouth to reply, and then stopped, his eyes fixed on the armour she wore. He looked back at her face, seemingly trying to decide whether the expensive and well-made armour indicated someone of importance. "My apologies….?"

"Lady Cousland," she said coolly, ignoring the pang of pain in her heart. It was the first time she'd ever introduced herself by the title that had been her mother's, and should have been Oriana's, but was now hers. At least until she was officially a Warden.

He swallowed. "My apologies, Lady Cousland."

"Apology accepted, Ser…?"

"Harmond, my lady."

"Ser Harmond. You might want to consider being a little more polite to people." She stepped around him. "If you will excuse me?" Leaving him behind, she headed for the far end of the camp. After a brief stop at the Quartermaster's to sell the various trinkets she'd picked up from Howe's soldiers, and purchase an assortment of the misnamed health poultices that would give her a false second wind in battle, she continued north.

As she passed the infirmary, her attention was drawn to the pale green tents of the Highever forces up ahead. Veering off towards the main camp, it took her only a few minutes to approach the tents. Standing just inside the boundary, she let her eyes drift along the familiar faces.

"Lady Elissa!" A blonde woman stopped in her tracks. Her cry drew the attention of the other soldiers and servants nearby.

She offered them all an honest, if small, smile. "Good morning."

"I didn't know you were coming with the Teyrn." Captain Hyack approached. "Where is he?"

Elissa's muscles tensed.

"My lady?" The captain asked tentatively.

She took a steadying breath. "Forgive me, Captain. I am sorry to inform you that Arl Howe murdered everyone at Castle Cousland the night you left. I was the only one to escape."

Dead silence met her statement, and then there was an explosion of sound as the soldiers shouted. She couldn't make out the individual words, but their fury was easy enough to discern.

Hyack raised a hand to summon silence, but it took a long time for the angry warriors to calm. Then it was broken by a sob from one of the newer soldiers, a recently married young man whose wife had been staying in the village below the Castle.

"Lady Cousland, I grieve for your loss," Hyack said formally.

"Thank you, Captain. I grieve for yours." The gruff soldier had been married twenty years and lived at Highever Castle, with a young son still at home. They too would be dead. "For all of you."

"Thank you, my lady." He paused. "What happened?"

"His soldiers were not actually delayed," she kept her voice calm. "They attacked in the night, when everyone was abed."

"Were there were no other survivors, my lady?" the red-headed Iriena asked weakly.

Elissa spread her hands helplessly. "The Grey Warden, Duncan, helped me escape but I don't know of anyone else who escaped. It was chaos, and there may have been some who escaped early on, but I don't know who or where to. I'm sorry."

"The Teyrn was killed?"

"Yes," she said tightly. "Stabbed in the back by Howe's men." Her hands clenched by her side.

"The Teyrna?"

"When my father…arranged for the Grey Warden to help me escape, Mother stayed behind to cover our escape." She swallowed. "She is dead."

"What of the little boy, Oren?" another woman cried.

Elissa's throat tightened further. "He was murdered in his bedroom."

The captain held his hand up to stop any further questions. "Then the Lord Fergus is now Teyrn."

She nodded silently.

"When do we march on Howe?" A loud, brash-faced man shoved his way from the back of the forces. There was a murmur of agreement.

"The king has promised that once the darkspawn are taken care of, he will have him executed for treason." Her jaw set. "We will have our vengeance!"

A cheer rose up.

Hyack held up a hand for silence again. "Will you be staying with the forces until then, my lady?"

She nodded. "I have been recruited into the Grey Wardens."

A murmur and shuffle was the response to that. "Congratulations, my lady." His wide eyes betrayed his surprise though his voice was steady. "Will you be staying with the Grey Wardens, or will you be staying in the Teyrn's tent?"

A fission of surprise shot through her. She hadn't thought of that. Of course, the Highever soldiers would expect her to sleep in the tent brought for her father, or perhaps Fergus's own. "I'm afraid I have to stay with the Grey Wardens."

"Of course." The captain inclined his head again. "If you change your mind, or if you need anything, his Grace's tent is open to you."

"Thank you, Captain."

"If there's anything we can do for you, my lady…" one of the elven servants offered.

"Thank you." She paused, considering. "I may require a bath tonight."

"Yes, my lady." The servant bowed.

"If there is nothing else, my lady," Hyack began, "the men do need to get back to work?"

"Yes, of course."

Hyack turned to the crowd. "Back to work, all of you. The better you prepare now, the faster we'll kill these darkspawn and the faster we can march on Howe!"

With a polite smile, she made her farewells to the captain and then turned to head back out of the main camp. It was probably time to find Alistair, she supposed. After asking several people for directions, she found herself heading up into the ruins of an abandoned temple.

As she climbed the ramp, she heard an irritated voice drift down. "What is it now? Haven't the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?"

Her attention caught, she headed towards the voices. Another voice, this one good humoured, responded: "I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence."

She stepped over the top of the ramp, and immediately spotted the speakers.

"What Her Reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me!" the tall, balding mage retorted. "I am busy helping the Grey Wardens – by the king's orders, I might add."

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" The other speaker was a young blond man in armour, with a shield bearing the griffin crest of the Wardens strapped to his back over a sword.

_Alistair, then_. Elissa smothered an amused smile at his words.

"Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner." The mage crossed his arms. Perhaps he'd stamp his foot next?

"Yes," the Warden drawled. "I was harassing you by delivering a message."

A dark scowl appeared on the mage's face. "Your glibness does you no credit."

"And here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you." He paused for effect. "The grumpy one."

The mage sighed. "Enough. I will speak to the woman if I must." He stormed past Elissa, nearly shoving her. "Get out of my way, fool."

The Warden turned towards her with a wry expression. "You know, one good thing about the Blight is the way it brings people together." Facing her, he looked even younger than she'd originally thought. Younger than she was, even.

Elissa stared at him in disbelief. _Did he really just say that? _"You are a very strange man." There was something about him that seemed very familiar.

"You're not the first woman to tell me that," he quipped. Then he paused, thought creasing his brow. "Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage, do you?"

_I'm dressed in armour and carrying a sword and you ask if I'm a mage? _"Why? Would that make your day worse?"

"Hardly. I just like to know my chances of being turned into a toad at any given moment," he said.

"Well, if I suddenly develop the ability to turn you into a toad, I'll make sure I warn you in advance," Elissa agreed, barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

"Good to know." He grinned, dark brown eyes laughing. "I'm Alistair, one of the Grey Wardens. And you are?"

She took the offered hand, feeling the hard calluses from sword-work and knowing he could feel the softer ones on her own palm.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Elissa Co...Elissa. Duncan recruited me." Her name would get around soon enough, but she didn't need, or want, to intimidate her only source of information on the Grey Wardens.

Alistair snapped his fingers. "Of course, I should have realised, I apologise." His gaze drifted to Duke, sitting patiently at her feet. A wide grin appeared on his face. "You have a mabari! Or rather, it has you." He crouched, holding out his hand. "And hello to you too. What's your name, handsome?"

Duke barked, and licked the hand enthusiastically.

"Duke," Elissa answered, a little bemused. Duke didn't normally warm up to people that quickly. He was a war dog, not a lap dog, as Fergus was so fond of reminding her.

"Interesting name." Alistair's eyes danced.

"He acted like one when I first got him. I mean it. He expected everything to be brought to him on a silver platter."

The supposed war dog rolled over onto his back to get his belly scratched.

"Aren't you a good boy," Alistair murmured, rubbing hard. Duke wriggled in delight. "Where did you get him? They're supposed to be trained before you get them."

Elissa swallowed painfully. "My fa…I know someone who breeds them. And he gave Duke to me."

"Untrained?" Alistair looked up at her.

"He normally is quite well behaved." Elissa glared at her companion, who was currently twining himself around Alistair's legs. "And a war dog, not a pet."

He laughed. "Don't blame him. I have somewhat of a knack with dogs. And how long have you been with your mistress, hmm?"

Duke gave him a series of growls and barks.

"I see." Alistair nodded gravely, pretending to have understood. "That long, huh? And are you a good boy for her?"

Duke wagged his tail.

"That's a clear enough answer." Alistair gave him a last pat and then stood up. Duke whined.

"Something of a knack?" Elissa reached out to pat her hound.

"Well, I guess they all see me as pack or something." He shrugged. "I grew up around a lot of dogs. Maybe the stink rubs off?"

"So you haven't bathed for a few years, huh?"

"Yup," he agreed cheerfully. "Well, how about I show you around the camp then?" She nodded her consent, and they set off down the ramp. "Are you hungry? We could go to the mess tent."

"That sounds good," she agreed.

As they walked past the infirmary, Elissa caught a glimpse of a cage with a man inside it. One glance at him and the guard watching over him told her enough, and she smothered her irritation. She had never had time for those who betrayed their oaths and tried to flee a battle. Bitterly, she noted that, in effect, that was what she had done… save that it had been on her father's orders.

Determinedly, she shifted her train of thoughts.

A pained cry drew her attention to one of the occupied camp beds. A moment later, she recognised the man was one of her brother's soldiers. An elderly woman in a brown senior enchanter's robe knelt beside him, her hands glowing as she murmured softly to him. A healer, then. A mage. Elissa veered and headed over, a confused Alistair behind her. As she neared, the soldier's eyes closed, and his face relaxed into sleep. The mage straightened with a soft groan, her hand going to her lower back.

"Will he be all right?" Elissa asked warily, eyeing the pale face she hoped was only sleeping.

The woman turned around to face the new arrivals. Her white hair was drawn back into a neat bun, revealing a wide forehead and a heavily lined face. Surprise and confusion flashed across her face. "Yes, he'll be fine and walking around by tomorrow afternoon." There was no deceit in her gaze, and Elissa's spine relaxed slightly.

The woman's gaze slipped past her. "Alistair."

His face brightened. "Senior Enchanter."

The mage's attention switched back to Elissa. "So you are Duncan's new recruit, I take it," she offered a warm smile. "He is not a man easily impressed. You should be proud." Elissa's return smile was more than a little bitter, but the woman appeared to ignore it. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the King."

"A pleasure to meet you," she said automatically, the manners drilled into her head over twenty years rising automatically to the forefront. "I am Elissa." As their hands touched, she cringed inwardly. Something crawled up her spine.

"Well met, and good luck to you on the battlefield." Both Wynne's smile and her brown eyes were amused, almost light-hearted. "To all of us, in fact."

Elissa looked at her in surprise. Mages, on the battlefield? "You'll be fighting beside the king then?"

"Not precisely beside him." Wynne shook her head. "The Grey Wardens will be on the front lines, not the mages. Still, we all have our parts to play, and even the Chantry must accept that magical spells are particularly effective at killing darkspawn. Even healers such as I have our uses in combat, bolstering the abilities of the other soldiers. And to defeat the darkspawn, we must work together." She had a warm maternal air, like a grandmother.

"That's what Duncan said!" Alistair interjected.

Wynne nodded. "Sadly, it's not an idea everyone seems able to grasp."

"Are there a lot of mages here?"

"There are twenty-four of us." Wynne smiled. "Not many. But our primal spells have quite an effect against darkspawn." A cry from another bed drew their attention. "Excuse me." She nodded to them and then hurried to her next patient.

After a moment watching the silently sleeping soldier from Highever, she jerked her head at Alistair. "Shall we move on?"

"Sure," he agreed.

As they walked away, she glanced at him. "Tell me a little about yourself."

Alistair shrugged. "I was trained as a Templar. Duncan saw I wasn't happy, and figured that my training against mages could double for fighting darkspawn. Now, here I stand, a proud Grey Warden."

A Templar? Well, that certainly explained the mage's reaction earlier. He didn't _look_ like a Templar though. At least, none of the ones she'd ever met.

"You weren't happy there?" Given what she'd seen of his personality so far, she wasn't surprised.

A shadow crossed his face. "The Chantry raised me, and becoming a Templar was a decision made for me a long time ago. The grand cleric never would have let me go, if Duncan hadn't forced the issue. I'll always be grateful to him." The devotion in his voice was plain.

"You speak fondly of Duncan," she noted.

"I spent years in that Chantry, hopelessly resigned to my fate. Duncan was the first person who cared what I wanted. He risked a lot of trouble with the grand cleric to help me."

"I see," she said politely. _He certainly didn't care what _I _wanted, did he? _

"Dinner time!"

The red-haired dwarf clambered to his feet. The glow of the bonfire flames danced across his face, shadows interspersing with the black tattoos on his face. Sitting with a casteless dwarf had been a new experience for Elissa. Her rank had kept her above the 'undesirables', though she had made friends among servants at the palace and in Cousland Castle, she'd never met someone as low on the social hierarchy as Farthic.

The other Wardens all rose. Of the thirty-one of them gathered around the fire, she was the only woman. There were twenty-two humans of assorted descent, including two Orlesians, a fact she imagined had displeased Loghain to no end. Seven elves and two dwarves made up the rest of the Wardens.

Alistair looked down at her where she sat on a log. "Aren't you coming?" His open face was creased in a frown of confusion.

"No, I have a dinner appointment with someone else." She smiled at him reassuringly. "You go on."

One of the men, already partially drunk, laughed raucously. "Sorry, lady, no can do. It's tradition to spend the first night with a new recruit getting drunk! And we have three of them!" He grabbed her upper arm from behind.

On edge after her family's murder and the emotional wringer of the day, her mind went blank and instinct took over. She grabbed his hand, bending back the fingers to get him to loosen his grip. As he yelped, she drew him over her hip, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

_Andraste, what have I done?_ Well, she was off to a rousing good start with her fellow Wardens, wasn't she? She coughed awkwardly. "My…apologies. I don't take well to being startled."

Disbelieving silence reigned. Then one of the other men, Andran, laughed. "That's what you get for messing with a woman who doesn't want you, Grent." Grent, climbing to his feet, scowled at him. He turned towards her. "But he has a point. We have a tradition."

She smiled at him politely. "I'm sorry. But I really can't."

"Duncan?" Andran turned towards his commander.

He shook his head slowly. "Not tonight, Andran."

Andran's eyes widened. "Maker, who are you meeting for dinner?"

With supremely bad timing that made Elissa want to swear, there was the sound of scuffling feet and then an elven servant appeared on the edge of the circle. "Lady Elissa?"

Elissa ignored the looks from the others. "Yes?"

He bowed. "His Majesty is ready for dinner, my lady."

Still swearing at his timing, Elissa rose to her feet. "I'll be right there." She brushed off the seat of her dark green trousers, bought in one of the villages they'd passed on the way to Ostagar, and turned to follow the servant, feeling the burning curiosity behind her.

He led her through the maze of tents that she was just beginning to learn. As they neared the yellow tent surrounded by torches and armed guards, she heard raised voices coming from within. She cleared her throat. "I think I'll be fine from here."

The servant glanced at her, at the tent, and then back at her. She nodded. "Yes, my lady."

Alone, Elissa continued towards the tent. The guard glanced at her face, and then stepped aside.

"…be borne. You have a duty, Cailan!"

"Anora is fine with it."

"She is your _wife_. Do you think she is happy with your mistresses?"

"It was an arranged marria-"

Elissa pushed open the tent flap. "Your voices, my lords, can be heard from half-way across the camp."

Cailan, dressed informally in a pale green silk doublet and brown breeches, turned towards her with a look of relief. Opposite him, still clad in his armour, Loghain's harsh face was set in angry lines. Plates of food steamed on a heavy wooden table nearby.

Loghain spared her a nod before returning his attention to the king. "Whether it was an arranged marriage or not makes no difference." He glared. "You are making my daughter the laughing stock of the kingdom!"

Cailan waved dismissively. "No-one knows, Loghain."

Elissa's anger surged. He was her best friend, but sometimes he was as oblivious as a bull, and just as tactful.

"No-one knows?" Loghain's hands clenched into fist around the golden goblet. "No-one knows? Did you think your personal guards never noticed you bringing whores into your bedchambers? Or realised why they were standing guard outside women's bedchambers overnight?"

"They would never tell."

"And the servants?" Elissa broke in. "Gossip spreads in the palace, Cailan. One servant noticing a woman sneaking out and it is all over the palace in minutes."

"No-one would dare say anything to Anora," he insisted.

"They don't have to!" She pressed her lips together. "All they have to do is give her pitying looks, or laugh behind their hands when she enters a room. Everyone knows. And Anora knows it." She could still remember Habren's overloud giggles last summer over the Queen being unable to 'satisfy' her husband. Anora had paled and her lips had turned white, but she had soldiered on as though she hadn't heard the indiscreet buffoon.

"Anora hasn't said anything."

No, Anora wouldn't. She was far too much like her father for her own good. "Even if the servants didn't talk, Cailan, the fact that Anora isn't pregnant after five years of marriage tells people that something is wrong."

Cailan scowled. "It's not my fault she's barren."

Elissa winced, anticipating the impending outburst.

"Barren?" Loghain fairly bellowed.

"Shh." She rested a hand on his arm, drawing his attention to her. "The whole camp will hear you."

He gritted his teeth, but dropped his voice, "Barren? Of course she's barren if you don't go to her bed!"

Elissa wondered if a conversation could get any more awkward than discussing your lack of a sex life with your wife, with your wife's father while his second wife-to-be looked on. But it was the price the king paid for having his father-in-law as his closest advisor, she supposed.

"We tried," Cailan said sharply. "For three years. But nothing happened. And Anora is a close friend, but I don't love her like that. Nor does she love me." His voice was rising throughout.

"I agreed to wait to marry Elissa, to give you another year to try to have a child without the pressure of our wedding and the ensuing social debacle," Loghain raged. "And now I find out you're not even taking that seriously!"

Cailan glared. "You didn't do that for me. You did it for Anora. To protect her social standing once you combine the blood of two Teyrnirs."

Elissa winced as she saw the expression on Loghain's face darken. If they were going to keep shouting…

"Perhaps this isn't the best place for this conversation?" She glanced nervously at the thin canvas walls.

Cailan nodded. "Yes. I think this conversation is over. Let's eat before the food goes cold. The mages' spells can only keep it warm so long." He turned towards the table.

Loghain's expression indicated he did not think their talk was done. He raised the goblet in his hand to his lips, and drained it in a single angry gulp. As he lowered the cup, his gaze shifted to her. His eyes softened, as he heeded the unspoken plea in her eyes. He nodded curtly.

"Come on, Ellie. Dinner!"


	5. In The Eye Of The Dragon

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect _for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things_. _They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 – In the Eye of the Dragon<strong>

_Death marches on_

_Its heavy tread concealed_

_In the silver cup of duty_

_Our final fate is sealed_

∞ Extract from an unknown literary-minded Grey Warden's diary

The next morning, Elissa awoke in Loghain's arms before dawn. He was still asleep, although she could hear the soft sound of movement outside, suggesting that others were starting to wake.

Rolling over, she let a finger trace the outline of his face. It was peaceful in sleep as it never was while he was awake. He wasn't the most handsome man of her acquaintance, nor was he charming, suave, affectionate or any of the other characteristics that most noble girls desired. Instead, he was taciturn, arrogant, cold, difficult and unyielding. But beneath the harsh exterior, he concealed a passionate, intelligent and caring man with a biting sarcastic wit. He treated her as an equal, despite her young age and her gender, as something more than simply a nobleman's arm dressing, and had wormed his way into her heart despite her initial attempts to keep him out. And if he'd never admitted he loved her, she knew it in every touch and every kiss. That was worth a thousand young, pretty faces and charming personalities. If occasionally she missed the open, easy affection that she could have had with another, younger man, Loghain's willingness to go against his nature to provide her with the occasional romantic and affectionate gesture went a long way to soothe that. Last night, after they'd made love for the first time, he'd held her close as they slept. And for the first time since that fateful night, she hadn't woken with tears on her face after dreaming of fire, screams and death.

She slipped out of the bed silently, and winced. Muscles she hadn't known she had were aching. It wasn't painful, exactly. Just distracting. With a faint smile on her lips, she padded silently to her abandoned clothes. Slowly, she began to dress. Once finished, and with her long hair coiled into a pair of buns at the back of her neck, she moved back towards the bed. His eyes were open now, and watching her. She bent to brush his lips with hers. He caught her wrist and tugged her closer, enough for him to kiss her properly. She buried her fingers in his hair, tasting the hopefully-soon-to-be-familiar blend of sleep and Loghain. When he let her go, she trailed the back of her fingers down his warm cheek and then snuck out of his tent into the cold air, Duke at her side.

In the Wardens' area, things were already busy. She swore silently. She'd hoped to be back in her tent before anyone else was up, but several tents were empty, their occupants off somewhere else in camp. One of the other two recruits, a short man named Daveth, winked at her as she passed, and she ignored him. Ducking into her tent, she halted. Beside her pack was a fat package. Surprised, she untied the string holding it together. Folded inside the brown paper were two pairs of black linen trousers and white shirts. The grey embroidery on the collar, starting to fray, was the familiar Gwaren wyverns. She held the shirt up against her, and realised it had been altered to fit her. Clearly Loghain had been busy yesterday before dinner. She wondered who he'd gotten to do the tailoring. Smiling, she folded the clothes into her bag. Then she began to fasten on her armour, left here before going to dinner the night before. She did one last check around the tent for anything she'd forgotten to pack, and then stepped back outside.

Daveth, lightly attired in leather, was talking a mile a minute to the heavily armoured knight who had been introduced as 'Jory'. All three males were waiting for her.

Alistair brightened as he saw her. "Great. We're all here. Let me explain to you what we're looking for, and then after that you three are in charge." His leather armour squeaked as he shifted. "Our main goal is darkspawn blood. You each need one vial."

Jory frowned. "Why?"

"For this ritual of theirs, obviously." Daveth rolled his eyes. "This…Joining Duncan spoke about last night. Which _someone_ is holding out on the details for…?"

Alistair laughed nervously. "It's…well…I can't talk about it. It's a secret."

"I don't like secrets." Jory scowled.

"Anyway," Alistair hurried on. "We're also looking for some treaties that Duncan says the Grey Wardens left in the Wilds when they left Ferelden."

"Treaties?" Elissa stared at him. "Why on Thedas would they leave something as valuable as treaties behind?"

"They left Ferelden in a rush. And I suppose they thought they'd be back a bit sooner than they have."

Elissa raised an eyebrow. "So, you want darkspawn blood for a ritual you won't tell us about, and treaties that the Grey Wardens abandoned in the middle of a forest?"

Alistair nodded. "That sounds about right."

Jory blanched. "But there are _darkspawn_ in that forest. How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There's an entire army there!"

Daveth stared at the knight incredulously. "So, where did you think we were going to get the blood then?"

Alistair ignored the rogue. "There _are_ darkspawn about. But we're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde."

"How do you know? I'm not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. I'm staying here." Jory shook his head firmly.

"You can't," Elissa snapped. "We've been given a job to do, Ser Jory. Duty says we must complete it. We'll just have to fight out way out of trouble."

As she expected, appealing to duty did the trick. Despite the fact his face didn't regain any of its lost colour, he nodded slowly. "I still do not relish the thought of encountering an army."

"Know this: all Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here," Alistair said.

Elissa's eyes narrowed. What was so special about being a Grey Warden that enabled them to sense darkspawn?

"You see, ser knight, we might die but at least we'll be warned about it first." Daveth laughed.

"That is…reassuring?" Jory frowned dubiously.

"That doesn't mean I'm here to make it easy, however. So let's get a move on," Alistair said briskly.

Elissa nodded. "Yes, I for one don't want to spend the night in the Wilds."

"No." Jory shivered.

They walked the short distance to the gates to the Korcari Wilds. The guards let them pass without question.

There was an eerie stillness to the woods, as they emerged. Her father had taught her the basics of hunting, and she knew that absolute silence in a wood meant something was wrong. Elissa shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to go for her sword. Beside her, Duke growled softly. She rested a hand on his head, curling her fingers into his fur.

Daveth slipped into place beside her. "So we've got a knight and a Templar." He jerked his head at Ser Jory and then Alistair and then grinned at her. "I'm a pickpocket from Denerim. What's your story?"

"It is obvious she was a soldier." The stern-faced knight didn't look very pleased as he leaned forward. "I was not aware they permitted women to join the Grey Wardens. None of those I've seen so far have been."

Elissa's eyes narrowed. She'd met men like him before, men who didn't think a woman was as good as a male warrior. "Is that a problem for you?" her voice was deceptively calm.

He seemed about to say something, and then changed his mind. "You've obviously impressed Duncan, and that's enough for me."

Her lips tightened.

Alistair cleared his throat. "There are female Grey Wardens. Just not very many."

Daveth was persistent. "So, were you a solider?"

She hesitated. "Of sorts." It wasn't entirely true. She'd been trained as a warrior, yes, but she hadn't dreamt of a career in arms since she was about thirteen. And now she found herself dropped back into the middle of that life, the life she'd intentionally forgotten.

He hummed noncommittally, and then smirked. "So, you didn't come back to your tent last night."

She ignored him.

He continued on regardless. "Found a lover here have you?"

Up ahead of her, the tips of Alistair's ears had turned red.

"Well?"

Elissa stopped, turning to the rogue. "If I answer you, will you stop talking and alerting everyone within miles to our presence?"

Daveth grinned. "Probably not."

"Then I'm not answering." Shaking her head, Elissa moved forward to the front of the group. Then she spotted movement. "Behind you." Her sword was out of its sheath instantly, and then she was sliding her shield onto her arm as Duke barrelled past her. With a roar of steel, Jory matched the dog pace for pace and lunged into the thick of battle. A whistling sound alerted her to an arrow flying past. Then the wolves were on them, snarling and snapping. She skewered the first one as it jumped at her, barely managing to keep her balance as eighty pounds of dead wolf slid down the blade of her sword. Jerking her blade free, she was turning to the next wolf before the first hit the ground.

When the battle was over, they were surrounded by dead wolves and all four of them were covered in blood. Jory, having nearly gone down beneath furry bodies several times, looked as though he'd bathed in it. Daveth, being furthest back, had fared the best. But even he had knifed one of the beasts in close quarters and been sprayed with blood.

"A good, quick fight." Jory sounded pleased.

The rogue rolled his eyes. "There's nothing honourable in being the first idiot to get into a fight, Ser Jory. That's how one ends up dead. Though, better you than me I suppose."

The knight did not reply, busy cleaning his blade against a wolf.

Elissa prodded one with her toe, and shook her head. What a waste. For wolves to attack them, they would have had to be starving. Which meant that this place had no prey, and probably was swarming with darkspawn. "Is anyone hurt?" A quick glance around indicated a negative, even from Jory. "Let's keep moving, then."

There were several minutes of silence, but Daveth clearly couldn't keep his mouth shut for long. "So, with your looks, you've probably had men throwing themselves at your feet for years."

Alistair groaned. "Daveth."

She eyed the rogue warily out of the corner of her eye. "I fail to see how that is any of your business." She could think of a number of young boys, and not-so-young men, who had paid her court at one time or another, though she suspected it was more for whatever she could bring them as a Cousland than her looks or her charms. And none of them she'd bedded, despite Daveth's implications.

"Come now." Daveth sniggered. "No need to be shy here."

"This is hardly appropriate conversation for you to have with a woman." Jory scowled darkly.

Daveth rolled his eyes. "She's not a woman. She's a Grey Warden, one of the brotherhood."

"Oh, so I give up my gender when I join?" Elissa said dryly.

"Hardly." Daveth's look was openly lascivious. "I comment because I saw you near the Highever tents last night, and I _know_ you only arrived yesterday. I wanted to congratulate you on your quick work."

Last night? "I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

Daveth laughed. "You can play innocent all you like. But you didn't come back to your tent last night. We can all put two and two together and get four."

"Leave her alone," Alistair growled.

Daveth ignored her. "Come on, girl. I just want to congratulate you."

"There is no lover," she lied.

"Then where did you go last night?"

She sighed in exasperation and lied again, "I stayed in the Highever tents." Now she just had to hope he didn't ask the soldiers. If she asked them to, they'd lie for her, but then she'd have to explain why. And she was _not_ having that conversation.

"Ha, I knew it. Your lover is from Highever."

"No," Elissa said sharply. "I slept in the Teyrn's tents."

Jory frowned. "The Teyrn's te…But Teyrn Cousland isn't here, and Lord Fergus is on a scouting mission and his servants would not let you sleep there without permission."

A fist clenched around her heart at the mention of her father, and she swallowed. "I am Elissa Cousland." Duke nudged her legs. She patted his head in reassurance.

"Cousland?" Alistair stiffened.

"Yes."

A dull red flush stained his cheeks. "F-forgive my earlier informality, my lady." He didn't meet her eyes.

Startled, she gave him a closer look. "You didn't know."

He didn't say anything, hurrying forward as though trying to escape her. Confused, she watched him go. There was something familiar about the way he walked.

He stopped suddenly, staring in horror at something at his feet. Quickening her pace, she caught up to him, and nearly lost her breakfast. Dead bodies littered the ground between where they stood and the shore of the lake. She felt vaguely ill; each ripped and wounded body reminded her Highever. Steeling herself, she began to check the bodies for signs of life. Moving quickly, it didn't take her long to determine that they were all dead. A flash of colour in the muck by the edge of the lake had her kneeling to tug a letter from the dirt. A moment of indecision later, she opened it and read it. It was a letter from a Missionary Rigby to his son, detailing a path to a place they would meet. She looked down at the corpse beside her. Beneath the dirt and muck, the undamaged face belonged to a boy not much older than her. This would be the son Jogby then. She folded and pocketed the note. If they found their way to this supply drop, she would see if she could find it. This boy would have no use for it, and there was no point leaving it for darkspawn. "Let's keep moving."

Some minutes later, the silence was broken yet again by Daveth. "I thought the Teyrn was fifty," Daveth nudged her with his elbow. "Is it normal for these Couslands to marry young girls?"

Duke snarled, and lunged. Elissa grabbed for his collar, barely restraining him. "He's my father, you foul-minded oaf!" Or he _was_ my father_. _But she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. "Duke, enough." The pup relaxed, and whined slightly, looking up at her with big eyes.

"Your father, Lady?" The rogue looked her up and down with a cocked eyebrow. "What highbrow Teyrn lets his precious, marriageable daughter become a Grey Warden?"

"A dead one," she hissed, too quietly for either of the others to hear her.

Daveth blanched, the smirk falling from his face. "Uh…"

"Don't," she said through gritted teeth. "Just, don't."

Nearly seven hours later, Elissa was beheading the last of a group of darkspawn that Alistair had called a genlock. It was a short, ugly creature with an incredibly foul stench. The first time they'd run across darkspawn, shortly after leaving the injured warrior, Elissa had nearly lost her lunch. Only sheer determination kept her stomach where it was, and kept her sword arm carving its way through the enemies. After that fight, even Alistair had looked pale. Clearly, the stench wasn't something you grew used to.

And she'd seen darkspawn magic in action for the first time, when they'd fought a spell casting Emissary. Thankfully darkspawn looked nothing like humans, so she hadn't frozen or gotten that dreadful sinking feeling in her stomach. Still, she wasn't looking forward to coming across another one of those any time soon.

They'd already collected their three vials of blood, which had been a disgusting job in and of itself that she was incredibly relieved Daveth had volunteered to do, but were still fighting their way south to find these Grey Warden ruins.

"So, Alistair." Daveth bent to jerk his blades from the Hurlock he'd just killed. "You've been a Grey Warden for a while now, right?"

"Six months."

Daveth sheathed his blades, and then turned to wait for Jory, who was struggling to free his blade from the nearest Genlock. "What's up with Duncan and this Loghain person? I heard them having a screaming fight yesterday afternoon."

Elissa closed her eyes and sighed inaudibly. She could guess what _that_ was about. _Damn it, Loghain_.

"Well, the Teyrn isn't fond of Grey Wardens." Alistair frowned. "But he's normally relatively civil."

"Well, something must have set him off." Daveth laughed. "He was furious. Saying, or shouting rather, something about Duncan overstepping his bounds…"

"I don't know what that was about." Alistair shrugged.

Elissa debated telling them for a moment, and then decided to keep her mouth shut. No need for her new comrades-in-arms to know that yet. "Are we going in?" She indicated the falling down ruins where Alistair said these documents were supposed to be.

Alistair glanced at Jory, who was approaching him. "I guess we're ready."

"Good." She walked through the broken entrance, and immediately spotted the large chest. As she moved across the broken stone and dirt floor, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She glanced around, feeling like they were being watched. Duke growled softly. But no-one was there. "Easy, boy," she murmured.

Arriving at the chest, she stared down at it. The lid was broken, and it was empty.

"Well, well," a voice drawled. "What have we here?"

Cursing herself for not following her instincts, Elissa whipped around, her hand immediately drawing her sword. A tall woman stood up high on the stone ramp, dressed in a feathered skirt, boots and shirt that revealed far more than it concealed. Her black hair contrasted with skin almost too pale to be real. The long staff strapped to her back marked her as a mage. The tension in Elissa's spine did not unravel, despite the mage's relaxed, unthreatening stance. She knew from personal experience how quickly a mage could go from peaceful to vicious.

"Are you a vulture I wonder? A scavenger poking among old bones that have long since been picked clean?" The woman began to descend the ramp.

Elissa pushed her way to the front of the group, and faced her without lowering her blade.

"Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled Wilds of mine, in search of easy prey?" The woman halted opposite her, unnaturally golden eyes gleaming. "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?

"Neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this tower." This felt like familiar ground, a war of words much like the ones waged so often by nobles in Denerim.

"Seems more like broken stones and overgrown rocks than a tower. The Wilds have long since claimed this desiccated corpse for itself." The other woman strolled forward, moving past the group and letting them all glimpse the sides of her breasts.

"Be careful, my lady. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby," Alistair warned.

The woman laughed. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

"Swooping is bad," Alistair said dryly.

Comprehension mixed with panic crossed Daveth's face. "She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is. She'll turn us into toads."

Elissa gazed at the mage with newly interested eyes. She'd heard many tales about the Witches, but this beautiful girl hardly seemed to fit those.

The mage, or witch, didn't seem impressed. "Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Tales told by men frightened of their own shadows. Have you no minds of your own, Grey Wardens?" Then she shifted her attention to Elissa herself. "You there. Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine."

"If we did frighten like boys, no child would ever be born," Elissa retorted. Then she relented with a polite smile and a wary nod. "I am Elissa. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mistress…?"

The woman laughed. "True indeed. And that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. I think I like you, Elissa. You shall call me Morrigan." She crossed her arms.

"I'd be careful, my lady. First it's 'I like you', but then it's zap! Frog time." Alistair clearly had this obsession with being turned into a frog.

"She'll put us all in the pot she will," Daveth babbled. "Just you watch."

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change." Jory's breath puffed white mist.

Morrigan ignored them. "I have watched your progress for some time. Shall I guess your purpose, scavenger? You sought something in the chest, something that is here no longer."

"Here no longer?" Alistair was outraged. "You stole them, didn't you? You're…some kind of…sneaky…witch thief!"

Elissa groaned silently. If she took offense…

"How very eloquent." Thankfully, the witch looked amused, not insulted. "How exactly does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems," Alistair glared at her. "Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them."

"I will not," Morrigan said indignantly. "For 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish. I am not threatened."

Elissa interrupted whatever Alistair was about to say: "But you know who it was that removed them?"

"Twas my mother, in fact."

Well, there was only one way forward then. Only, this woman's mother was likely to be a mage as well. If the stories were true about the Witches of the Wild, a mage far more powerful than any she'd met before. A shudder ran down her spine.

She gathered her courage. "Your mother? Could you take us to her?" Elissa ignored the spluttering of the men behind her.

"That is a sensible request. Very well, as you please."

"I don't think that's a good idea, my lady." Alistair ran a hand across his face.

"You want these treaties, right? They aren't here, and the only possible way to get them is to talk to Morrigan's mother."

"I still don't know." Alistair bit his bottom lip.

Elissa threw up her hands. "Fine. I'll go alone with Duke. I'll meet the rest of you back at camp."

"No." Alistair shook his head. "I can't let you go alone. I'm coming with you."

"If you've all finished deciding who is coming?" Morrigan leapt lightly onto the row of stones leading out of the tower ruins. ""Follow me, then, if it pleases you." She disappeared over the other side.

Alistair caught Elissa's arm as they moved after the witch. "Be careful, my lady," he said quietly. "I've heard tales about these Witches of the Wild."

"I have too." Elissa smiled reassuringly at him, touched by his concern. "But this is our best chance, no?"

Less than an hour later, they were approaching a hut in a clearing. An elderly woman with shoulder-length grey-black hair stood outside, clad in a worn and patched dress stood near the door She looked like any ordinary peasant woman, save for the gleam in her grey-brown eyes.

"Greetings, Mother," Morrigan's voice held no particular warmth. "I bring you four Grey Wardens…"

"I see them, girl. Hmmm. Much as I expected," the old woman said briskly.

Duke growled softly, and Elissa's eyes narrowed. As she expected? Even mages couldn't tell the future. Clearly, this woman was more than she seemed. Her hand itched to go for her sword, but she didn't dare.

Alistair frowned. "Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide…either way, one's a fool." The old woman cackled.

"She's a witch I'm telling you. We shouldn't be talking to her," Daveth hissed, not quite quietly enough.

"Quiet, Daveth," Jory whispered back. "If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?"

"There's a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant in the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides," the so-called witch said cryptically. "Believe what you will." The old woman stepped closer to Elissa, who held her ground. "And what of you, Elissa Cousland? Does your woman's mind give you a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as these boys do?"

Elissa hid her surprise that the old woman knew her name, and considered the question for a moment. Prevarication would not work here, of that much she was quite certain. "I'm not sure what I believe. That you are a witch is quite possible. But maybe you are not. I cannot say either way. And since you hold the treaties in your hands, clearly you expected us, whether because you are a witch or you saw us approaching." She shrugged.

"Now there's an answer that indicates more wisdom then it implies. Be always aware, or is it oblivious? I can never remember." The woman laughed. "A bold answer too, from someone with more reason than most to fear what a mage can do."

A chill ran down Elissa's spine. "I don't know what you mean."

"Only a fool would not fear mages after what you have seen. And we have already established that you are not a fool, yes?"

Elissa said nothing, feeling her companions' curious stares on her back. She seemed to be doing that far more often that was good for her peace of mind.

"So much about you is uncertain…your path has many roads and temptations…so many places where you will trip and fall…and yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do."

Elissa eyed her warily. Clearly this woman, whoever she was, liked to speak in riddles. And Elissa _hated_ riddles.

"So this…is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds." Alistair's voice was quiet, but not quiet enough.

"Witch of the Wilds, eh?" The old woman's amusement was clear. "Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it. Oh, how she dances under the moon." She laughed, and Elissa felt a pang of sympathy for the young witch.

Morrigan winced. "They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother."

"True, they came for their treaties, yes?" She shifted her attention to Alistair. "And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."

"You-" Alistair faltered. "Oh. You protected them?"

"Is that so hard to believe? Your Wardens did a pitiful job of it." She raised her eyebrows. She stepped forward with the pile of old parchments. "Take these to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight is greater than they realise."

_Greater than they realise?_ But if she asked for clarification, she was sure the witch would only spout more cryptic riddles that mean nothing.

"Thank you for your advice," Elissa said politely, accepting the treaties, "and for protecting the treaties."

"Such manners." She looked faintly surprised. "Hardly someone one expects, especially from one such as you, Elissa Cousland. But then, manners are always in the last place you look. Like stockings. And babies. One last piece of advice then, girl. You have already learnt that the trust is not always deserved. Now you must know that the betrayer sleeps closer to you than you know."

Howe? No, Cailan wouldn't let him anywhere near her, not now that he knew she would kill him if she had the chance. Elissa carefully kept her face blank. She could see the men looking at each other in disbelief.

Morrigan's mother had clearly seen their faces as well, and laughed. "Do not heed my advice then if you'd rather not. 'Tis up to you. Now go, you have what you came for."

"Your ruins are that way." Morrigan pointed back into the forest, clearly eager to get rid of them before her mother spilled any more embarrassing secrets of hers.

"Do not be ridiculous girl. These are your guests."

Morrigan sniffed ungraciously. "Oh, very well. I will show you out of the woods. Follow me." The witch led them through paths they hadn't seen before, and it wasn't long before they stood outside the gates to the camp. "This is where I leave you," she said abruptly.

"Thank you for your help." Elissa offered her a smile. Morrigan had been kind when she didn't have to be and Elissa couldn't help but admire a woman so brazen as to wear that outfit in front of men.

Morrigan looked startled. "You…are welcome."

"Perhaps we will meet again," Elissa suggested, watching out of the corner of her eye as the three men slipped through the gate.

Morrigan laughed. "I think that highly unlikely. But perhaps. One never knows." She disappeared.

Elissa started, her heart pounding in her mouth, and her hand instinctively going to her sword hilt.

An owl flapped up from where the witch had stood, and fixed Elissa with piercing yellow eyes. Then, it ghosted off through the darkened trees.

Elissa stared after her. A shape shifter? She'd heard the tales of course, but never given any credence to them. Slowly, her muscles relaxed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Then she turned to walk through the gates, finding the three men waiting impatiently on the other side. As they walked through the compound, Elissa pulled off her gauntlets and her helmet to hang on her belt.

Duncan was waiting for them alone, warming his hands by the fire. He turned at their approach. "So you return from the Wilds. Have you been successful?"

"Yes," Elissa said shortly.

"Good. I've had the Circle mages preparing. With the blood you've retrieved we can begin the Joining immediately."

"Now will you tell us what this ritual is all about?" Daveth interrupted.

"It is a…test, of sorts. Of your suitability to be a Grey Warden."

Jory's dour face brightened. "A duel then? A demonstration of our battle abilities?"

Duncan hesitated. "Not exactly. It is a battle, but not a battle of arms."

"What other battles are there?" Jory's brow creased in confusion.

"You will see. But we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree you pay your price now rather than later," Duncan said.

Her heart skipped a beat. "You didn't tell me that when you conscripted me."

"If only such secrecy was unnecessary and all understood the necessity of such sacrifice. Sadly, that will never be so."

So she could die in this ritual. Fergus would be left as the last Cousland. She straightened her shoulders. She would simply have to make sure she _didn't_ die.

"Well, I'd have been hanged in Denerim if you hadn't recruited me." Daveth shrugged. "If I die here, at least I've had a few more weeks of life. Let's go then. I'm anxious to see this Joining now."

"I agree," Ser Jory nodded. "Let's have it done."

"Then let us begin." Duncan looked to his left. "Alistair, take them to the old temple."

The Grey Warden nodded, and led them away from the campfire, towards the place where Elissa had encountered him the day before. Elissa took a moment to drop off the flower she'd picked up in the Wilds that Daveth said the Kennel Master was looking for, and then hurried to catch up.

"-the more I hear about this joining, the less I like it," Jory was saying. "Why do I need to prove myself? Have I not already proven I can fight in battle?"

"Maybe it's about more than just skill at arms?" Elissa suggested.

"Maybe it's tradition." Daveth grinned. "Or maybe they're trying to annoy you."

They all turned towards Alistair.

He shifted uncomfortably again. "….yes, while a Warden needs to be able to fight, it takes…something else to be able to survive as one."

They turned up the stone ramp leading towards the temple.

The rogue pounced. "Something else?"

"I can't talk about it. Duncan would kill me. I'm sorry."

Jory looked unconvinced. "I still don't like it."

Daveth snorted. "Are you still blubbering? For a knight, you spend a lot of time whining like a girl."

Elissa stopped beside the cracking ruins of the altar and turned towards him. "I take offence at that."

"No offence meant, my lady." Daveth swept a florid bow.

"I'm not whining," Jory said crossly. "I'm just saying that I don't understand."

"And saying you don't understand isn't going to help you understand any faster."

"All I'm saying is that I have a wife and a child on the way, at home. If I'd known that it was this dangerous…if they'd warned me…"

The other shrugged. "Maybe that's why they don't? Wardens do what they have to, right? At any cost."

"Including sacrificing us?"

"I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight," Daveth retorted. "You saw those darkspawn, ser knight. Wouldn't you die to protect your pretty wife from them? The babe she carries?"

Jory looked lost. "I…"

"Maybe you'll die. Maybe we'll all die. If no-one stops the Blight, we'll all die for sure." Daveth crossed his arms. "And I'm willing to bet it would be a much more painful death."

"It is your duty, Ser Jory. Just as it is mine," Elissa said quietly. All three men looked at her, seemingly having forgotten she was there.

"You are here for your duty then, my lady?" Jory asked.

"Yes," she said simply. She could see Alistair eyeing her, confusion on his face, but ignored it.

Jory looked about to say more, but was interrupted as Duncan arrived, bearing an oversized silver goblet. Accompanying him was the old mage Elissa had met the day before, the healer. In her hands she held a small glass flask of a bubbling, seething red liquid. Elissa tensed.

Duncan nodded to them all and then gestured to the mage. "This is Wynne, one of the senior enchanters of the Circle of Magi, and a friend of the Grey Wardens. Wynne, our recruits."

"Yes, I've seen them around the camp." She offered a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"If you please?" Duncan held out the goblet.

Wynne opened the vial she was carrying, and upended it into the cup. Her lips moved soundlessly, and the hair on the back of Elissa's neck rose. A soft humming sound was barely audible, so quiet that she wouldn't have heard it if her nerves weren't already strained to the breaking point. Elissa swallowed.

As the last drop of red liquid plopped down, Wynne recapped the vial. She glanced around at the gathered recruits. "Good luck." With another quick smile she departed.

"At last, we come to the Joining," Duncan announced. "The Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint."

Elissa barely kept her jaw from dropping.

"We're…going to drink the blood of those…those creatures?" Jory gaped at him.

Duncan moved forward. "As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. This is the source of our power and our victory."

After two weeks with him, Elissa was well aware of Duncan's preachy side, but this was certainly taking the dramatic theatre to a whole new level.

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in darkspawn, and use it to slay the Archdemon," Alistair added.

So they were going to drink poisonous blood and hope to the Maker that it didn't kill them. This was even worse than some of Cailan's battle plans when they were children. Although, it did explain why Duncan seemed to prefer recruits with nothing left to lose, and why the Joining was so secret. She squared her shoulders. "Right then," Elissa said. "Let's get on with this."

"Not all who drink the blood will survive, and those who did are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay," Duncan warned. He looked at them all. "We speak only a few words prior to the Joining but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?"

"Join us, brother and sisters," Alistair began, his voice echoing through the ruined temple. "Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn." The air temperature seemed to fall, and Elissa shivered. "And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you."

Oh, _that _was calculated to set them all at ease. Elissa's palms grew sweaty as Duncan reached for the oversized cup on the table behind him.

"Daveth, step forward," Duncan commanded.

The rogue stepped forward and took the cup. He glanced around at them, humour in his eyes. "Well, it was good knowing you." Without further ado, he tilted it back against his lips. Elissa watched his throat swallow, and then he handed the cup back to Duncan. Nothing happened for a moment, and then he gasped. Clutching his stomach, he bent almost double. Then he gagged, struggling desperately to breathe.

"Maker's breath." Jory backed away.

Elissa's eyes were riveted in horror, watching as the poison destroyed the man from the inside out. Daveth fell to his knees, struggling weakly.

"I am sorry, Daveth," Duncan murmured.

Then Daveth collapsed, lying absolutely still on the paved stone.

Elissa closed her eyes for a long moment.

Without pausing, Duncan stepped towards the knight. "Step forward, Jory."

"But…I have a wife, a child," the knight stammered. He stepped back, nearly tripping over his own feet. He drew his greatsword. "Had I known…"

Duncan's voice was dark, and dangerous. "There is no turning back."

"No, you ask too much!" Jory backed further still. "There is no glory on this."

Duncan drew his sword, and within a few moments, it was over. The winner of Highever's melee tournament lay dead in a pool of his own blood. Elissa fought to keep her stomach down and her legs where they were, resisting the urge to run away as far and as quickly as possible.

Then Duncan straightened. "But the Joining is not yet complete." Blood spattered, he turned towards Elissa. "You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good."

Elissa looked at him, and then the cup. She could drink, and most likely die. Or she could refuse to drink, and definitely die on Duncan's blades. She reached for the cup, and Duke growled. She quieted him with one hand, and then took the cup. _Fergus, I love you. _She closed her eyes. _Loghain, forgive me._ Then she tilted the cup up and felt the foul liquid spill down her throat. Her throat convulsed.

Duncan took the goblet from her hands. "From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

Agony erupted in her stomach, spreading quickly like fire to her veins. Her head felt like it was splitting open, and her ears filled with a strange, undecipherable whisper. She heard a distant scream, and was vaguely aware of an ache in her throat. A giant dragon was shrieking, lashing its head this way and that. Iridescent dark purple scales and sharp neck spikes gleamed in the flashes of fire around it. The beast flapped its enormous wings. Malevolence and hatred poured off it in giant waves, threatening to force her to her knees. Then the monstrous head swung towards her, slitted eyes locking with her own. There was a sudden overwhelming pressure against her mind, and the pain in her head exploded. Through the agony, the whispered hiss grew louder and more insistent. Distantly she heard a shriek. She felt her grasp on consciousness slipping, and gratefully sank into the depths of oblivion.


	6. The Clamour Of The Bells

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect _for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things_. _They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative or positive) are always welcome, and I do respond to each of them individually.

Chapter 6 – The Clamour of the Bells

_One, two, the bells of battle sound_

_Three, four, let loose the royal hound_

_Five, six, we'll play the drums of war _

_Seven, eight, and fulfil the oaths we swore_

∞ An ancient battle cry from the Exalted Age

Elissa's awareness returned to a wet tongue licking her face enthusiastically.

"Duke," she groaned. "Enough." She opened her eyes to see the tip of his tongue retracting into his jaw as the dog sat by her side, wagging his tail and panting.

Duncan was leaning over her, with Alistair hovering above. "It is finished. Welcome."

"Are you all right? I've never seen anyone take that hard a fall." The concerned expression on Alistair's face was eerily familiar, and her breath escaped her lungs in a whoosh as she realised who he reminded her of. _Cailan?_ She almost laughed at the thought. Had she hit her head so hard that she was seeing Cailan everywhere? If he ever learned of her momentary lapse, she'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm…fine." Despite her words, a dull ache had taken up residence in her head, and only worsened as she sat up. "Was that expected?"

"It is not uncommon," Duncan reassured her. "Some people just react a little more violently than others."

"Great," she said wryly, gingerly feeling the back of her head. She couldn't feel a bump, but the skin was still smarting and she wouldn't be surprised if one developed later.

"Two more deaths. In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was…horrible." Alistair shuddered. "I'm glad at least one of you made it through, Lady Elissa."

Not exactly the most comforting to words to hear, Elissa thought as she gingerly got to her feet. Her head still ached, and her back hurt where she must have hit the stone, but otherwise she was all right. Except for a low hum in her head that wouldn't go away.

"How do you feel?" Duncan inquired.

"It's over. I'm fine." She twisted her shoulders, trying to loosen her back muscles. She was still trying to get over the fact she'd survived. "Is my head supposed to be buzzing? Did I hit the ground that hard?" It didn't feel like a concussion, but she didn't know for certain.

Duncan nodded. "Yes, that's the taint in you sensing the darkspawn. Over time, you'll learn to be able to tell where they are and how many darkspawn are around you."

"Did you have dreams, my lady? I had terrible dreams after my joining," Alistair added.

She thought of the dragon, snapping and snarling at her, its eyes clouded with madness. "Yes."

Duncan gave her a comforting smile. "Such dreams come when you start to sense the darkspawn, as we all do. That and many other things can be explained in the months to come."

"Oh great," she said dryly. "More secrets."

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh, before I forget," Alistair interrupted. "There is one last part to your Joining. We take some of that blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us…of those who didn't make it this far."

Elissa accepted the necklace he held out her. Blood blacker than the darkest night sloshed in a small capped vial, on a silver necklace. It was poison. The same poison that now ran through her own veins. She shivered as the vial settled around her neck, bumping over her heart and against her mother's locket.

She looked up, her mouth open to say something, and then froze. Alistair's head was tilted down towards her, the light from the flickering torches dancing across his skin. The shape of his face was eerily similar, if a little narrower than Cailan, and the eyes… a shiver ran down her spine. In this light, and at this angle, Alistair could almost be mistaken for Cailan's brother. Amusement shot through her at the thought. She wondered if Cailan had met Alistair yet. The king would no doubt be delighted at the opportunity the resemblance provided to play some sort of prank on someone or other, probably Loghain. She stilled suddenly, recalling a conversation she'd heard years ago by listening at the keyhole to her father's office. Bryce had been speaking to Loghain about King Maric's rumoured bastard, who had been hidden away from the nobility.

Was this then, King Maric's bastard? _Prince Alistair_? The notion seemed ridiculous. But…she glanced back at his face, which still looked like Cailan, only younger and more serious. Of course, if he was a bastard son, he wasn't truly a prince, although more than one noble would conveniently forget that if they thought it would benefit them.

Duncan cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "If you are feeling well enough, I'd like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king."

Elissa looked at him, searching his eyes and wondering if Loghain had spilled the news about their betrothal during the fight yesterday. "What kind of meeting?"

"The king is discussing strategy for the upcoming battle. The darkspawn have massed, and the battle will likely be tonight. I'm not sure why he requested your presence." His eyes gleamed.

Elissa sighed. He thought she was the King's lover. Refraining from rolling her eyes, she nodded her acceptance. Her left cheek bore a bloody scratch from a lucky wolf that had caught her unprepared while she had been shaking out her sweaty hair from her helmet, and her armour was caked with dirt and blood. Her hands went to her hair, filthy and caked as it was despite having been protected by a helmet. She was going to attend a meeting with the King like this? What had she been thinking? What she needed was a bath. But until she had time to go and visit the Highever tents, that was unlikely to happen.

"Good, come with me." Duncan turned and began his descent down the stairs.

"Come on, boy." She tugged lightly on Duke's head, and then the two of them set off after the Warden-Commander.

In the midst of the runes, Loghain and Cailan were standing beside a long table spread with maps, talking quietly. At the sound of their boots against the stone, Cailan looked up. The initial smile he'd worn fell away. "Ellie! What happened?"

The cry caught Loghain's attention, and the Teyrn's head jerked up. He swept her with his gaze, and his scowl deepened. He shot Duncan the filthiest look she'd ever seen him wear. Despite Elissa having expected him to all but ignore her given that they were in public, Loghain moved around the end of the table towards her. He tugged the gauntlet off his right hand, and caught her chin for a close inspection of her face. She was intensely aware of Duncan's eyes on them both.

"We were in the Wilds and ran into some darkspawn," Elissa explained to both of them. She reached up to touch the hand Loghain had on her face reassuringly. "Most of it isn't mine," she promised quietly.

"You're hurt. You need to see a healer." Loghain scowled again. "I shouldn't have let you do this."

"Hush. It is my duty. And this is just a scratch. I've had far worse in training." Elissa tugged his hand down between her palms and arched an eyebrow with a teasing smile. "From you, even." His hand clenched around her fingers almost convulsively.

A clatter of armour announced the arrival of the Templars and the Reverend Mother, and Loghain let go abruptly. Straightening, he stalked back to the table, tugging his gauntlet back on. Moments later, the self-important woman strode into the Council. She caught sight of Elissa's filthy form, and visibly sniffed in disapproval. From the other side, a tall, balding mage approached them.

Elissa stepped back, only to bump into Duncan who had come up behind her. He was eyeing her, with an intrigued look on his face. Well, she thought wryly, if nothing else, that little display had disabused him of the idea she was sleeping with Cailan. Now, he'd simply think she was Loghain's mistress. "You have something to say, Duncan?"

"This merely…explains some things I wondered about," he said.

Elissa turned her head, raising an eyebrow. "The argument the Teyrn had with you yesterday?"

"I had wondered why he was so protective of Cailan's mistress." He glanced at the men by the table. "But this also explains several things both you and the King have said." He hesitated. "This is no-"

Cailan's voice rose and cut through their conversation. "Loghain, my decision is final. I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault."

"You risk too much, Cailan," Loghain argued, raising his voice to match the King's. "The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines."

She spun her head to look at Cailan. He wanted to be on the front lines? The _idiot_!

"I am the king, and I must lead my people." Cailan shook his head obstinately. "I cannot ask my soldiers to do something that I will not."

"Soldiers can die in battle without destroying a country. If _you_ fall in battle without an heir, there will be civil war!"

"Then I will simply not die." Cailan turned away dismissively.

"It does not work like that," Loghain spat. "War is dangerous, and the front lines will be the hardest hit."

"If that's the case, maybe we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us, after all," Cailan retorted. Elissa winced. That wasn't going to make Loghain any more willing to accept Cailan's decision.

The ever-present scowl deepened. "I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves." Loghain was quite clearly holding onto his self-control by a thread. She didn't remember them ever arguing like this before, and while Loghain had no compunctions about shouting at Cailan in private, he'd never challenged him in public like this. In front of the Chantry and the mages, as well as anyone who cared to listen!

"It is not a 'fool notion'," Cailan said sharply. "Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past…and you will remember who is king."

Elissa's breath caught in her throat at the veiled threat.

Loghain's blue eyes glittered, and he turned away with fists clenched. "How fortunate," he said through gritted teeth, "that Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden to those who enslaved us for a century."

Cailan drew himself up. "Then our current forces will have to suffice, won't they? Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"

"They are, your Majesty."

"It will be a battle for the legends," Cailan said with all the giddiness of a child, an abrupt change from the harsh king who'd just slapped down his most trusted general.

Loghain turned back towards them, his anger still evident. "Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan. We must attend to reality."

Cailan sighed. "Fine, speak your strategy. The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines, and then…?"

The general bent over the map. "You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signalling my men to charge from cover."

"To flank the darkspawn, I remember." Cailan smiled gleefully. "This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Who shall light this beacon?"

"I have a few men stationed there. It's not a dangerous task, but it is vital," Loghain said firmly.

"Then we should send our best." Cailan looked in Elissa's direction, and the rest of the group followed. "Send Alistair and the Lady Cousland to make sure it's done."

So, he did know of his half-brother, if the look in his eyes was any sign. Elissa didn't miss the start of surprise from the Reverend Mother at the mention of her name. She bowed formally, hiding her relief. She really did not want to fight in the main battle, where Duncan's 'training' had shown her she would almost certainly be killed. "Your Majesty's will."

Amusement flashed in Cailan's eyes.

"You rely on these Grey Wardens too much, Cailan," Loghain objected. "Is that truly wise?"

Elissa shot him a surprised look. She would have thought he would be eager for her to avoid the main battle.

"And why should I not? They have fought the Blight for thousands of years. Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain. Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they are from."

Duncan cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the Archdemon appearing."

"There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wilds." Loghain fixed him with a glare.

Cailan grinned. "Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?"

"I…Yes, your Majesty." Duncan bowed his head, but not quickly enough to hide the consternation on his face.

The mage stepped forward. "Your Majesty, the tower and beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi-"

He was cut off by the sneering priestess. "We will not trust any lives to your spells, mage. Save them for the darkspawn."

Elissa shook her head inwardly. The Reverend Mother was being stupid. In battle, every resource had to be used to its best ability. If the mages thought they could create a signal, it would save both people and time.

Loghain raised a hand. "Enough! This plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens shall light the beacon."

Cailan's face lit up. "Thank you Loghain. I cannot wait for that glorious moment. The Grey Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil."

Loghain's face was like stone. "Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all."

As she turned to follow the rest of the council out, Elissa hesitated. Loghain was staring down at the map on the table, his fists clenched. A quick glance around indicated they were alone, and she approached him cautiously.

"Your Grace?" she asked tentatively, unsure whether he would talk to her as his lover or as a noblewoman.

He looked up at her wearily. His eyes were troubled and her heart wrenched. "Elissa."

Lover it was, then. She reached for his hands. "I'm sorry he won't listen to you."

"So am I," he whispered, shaking his head.

She drew him into a shadowed corner of the ruin, out of sight of prying eyes. He cast one single glance back at the map, and then came willingly. She cupped his face in her hands, and then stood on tiptoe to kiss him softly. He was still for a moment, and then her back crashed against the wall as he pinned her to it. His hot tongue darted out to fill her mouth, probing and searching out every crevice. Her blood heated, thrumming in her veins as he swallowed her gasp. She twined her own tongue around his and angled her head for better access.

He pulled back, his strong hands braced on either side of her head and a distant look in his eyes. "I hate this."

"I know." She offered him a small smile. "Cailan is a strong fighter. He will get through this, even if he insists on fighting on the front lines."

His lips thinned. "Even a strong fighter can be killed."

"He will be fine," she repeated. She paused. "Loghain, is there a reason you wanted me on the frontlines instead of at the Tower?"

He gave her a startled look. "It was not you I objected to. It's that Grey Warden."

"Alistair?" She knew her surprise showed in her voice. "Why?"

"I don't trust the Grey Wardens."

"Yes, but that is because many of them are Orlesian. Alistair is Fereldan." Her eyes narrowed. "He is who I think he is, isn't he?"

His tensed, his breath was warm against her neck. "Yes. He is."

"Ah." She knew when to leave the topic alone.

"What's done is done." Loghain pulled away from her, the familiar cold mask appearing once again. "I must leave, I have things to do." He hesitated. "Will you…come to me tonight? If the battle does not begin?"

"You know I will." She leaned up and kissed him one last time. He tasted of warm beef stew and fresh bread, overlaying the unique taste of Loghain she could very easily become accustomed to. "I love you." Then she ducked under his arm, and headed back out in the camp, neither expecting nor receiving any response.

She spied Duncan and Alistair by the campfire, and made her way towards them.

"…to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit." Duncan glanced up at her approach, nodding to her.

"What? I won't be in the battle?"

"This is by the king's personal request, Alistair," Duncan said sternly. "If the beacon isn't lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge."

The other warden…prince…no, warden frowned. "So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there, holding the torch. Just in case, right?"

"Stop whining," she said with exasperation. Just like his half-brother, Elissa mused. Eager for glory.

Duncan shook his head. "That is not your choice. If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens will be there. We must do whatever it takes to destroy the dark spawn – exciting or no."

"I get it. I get it." Alistair scowled. "Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the remigold, I'm drawing a line. Darkspawn or no."

Elissa smothered a laugh. She'd seen Cailan in a dress once, when he'd lost a bet with Fergus. Maric had found it funny, but Bryce Cousland had not. Her laugh died away. She cleared her throat. "I'd like to see that."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "For you, maybe, my lady. But it'd have to be a pretty dress."

Elissa shifted uncomfortably, and looked away. Was he flirting with her? She hoped not.

Duncan sighed, and shook his head. "Now, you should all get some sleep. If the battle comes tonight, make your way straight to the Tower."

"Do you think it will be tonight?" she asked.

"The darkspawn presence is very strong," Duncan allowed. "It may be tonight. Or it may be tomorrow."

Elissa sighed.

"When the battle starts, you'll need to cross the gorge and head through the gate and up to the tower entrance. From the top, you'll overlook the entire valley."

"When do we light the beacon?" Alistair asked.

"We will signal you when the time is right," Duncan explained. "You remember the signals?"

Alistair looked confused for a moment and then nodded. "The ones Brosren taught me? Yes."

Elissa pursed her lips. "What happens if the Archdemon appears?"

"We soil our drawers, that's what." Alistair grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes. "And trust the stink will kill him?"

Duncan gave them both a stern look. "If it does, leave it to us. I want no heroics from either of you."

_No, no heroics,_ she agreed grimly. She couldn't afford heroics, not with Fergus being the only heir to Highever left.

"Now, off with you, Alistair." Duncan waved them away. "Elissa, a word?"

She ignored Alistair's confused look, and waited silently. She could guess what this was about.

When Alistair was out of earshot, Duncan sighed. "About this…relationship you have with the Teyrn."

The muscles in her back tensed. "What about it?"

"I recommend you reconsider your relationship. It does not look good for a Grey Warden to be having an affair with the king's closest advisor," he said bluntly.

That…had not been what she expected to hear. Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and fury rippled down her spine. "I am not having an affair with him," she said sharply. "He is my betrothed."

Surprise showed on Duncan's face before it was wiped away. "Nevertheless, as a Warden-"

"As a Cousland," she cut him off, "he is the only noble of equal rank. And he is marrying the Cousland, not the Warden." At least, politically anyway.

"Retaining the title is only a courtesy."

"If Loghain doesn't object, I don't see why you would," she snapped. "I'd have thought you'd want the connection with the King this would bring the Wardens."

"We have only recently been allowed back into Ferelden." Duncan shook his head. "We cannot risk being seen as becoming politically entangled."

"Then you should have thought of that before conscripting me." She eyed him icily. "Howe took everything from me two weeks ago, and you took what little remained. This, I refuse to let you take." Turning, she walked off with her head high.

Under the cover of darkness, Elissa followed Duncan and Alistair back out into the Wilds. If the forest had been unsettling during the day, at night it was frighteningly quiet. The crunch of leaves and branches underfoot was the only sound to break the eerie silence. She would almost have been relieved to hear the snarl of a wolf.

Just out of sight of the sentries guarding the entrances to Ostagar, two Wardens in leather armour were heaving a pair of limp bodies onto a wooden pyre in the middle of a clearing. Elissa swallowed, staring at Daveth's face, frozen as it was in a grimace of pain. Beside him, Jory's shirt was stained brown with dried blood from the stab wounds in his stomach.

"Wait here." Duncan strode forward towards another Warden, who carried a long wooden pole capped with a bundle of merrily burning rags. A Warden stepped up to the pyre, and emptied the contents of a large brown jug onto the wood and bodies. The pungent smell of oil with a hint of something else filled the air.

At some unseen signal, the gathered Wardens lined up in rows facing the pyres. Belatedly, Elissa stepped into an empty space in the last row.

"You who gave your lives today, we thank you for your sacrifice. Go in peace." Duncan's face was half-hidden by dancing shadows, the right side of his face almost disappearing into the black of the forest. He raised the torch, and in one swift movement, plunged it into the pyre. The heat blasted against her face as the pyre flamed, and she barely kept from stepping back. Now she recognised that underlying smell in the oil. Magic had been mixed in, and now the flames burnt far hotter than they should have. "And know that someday, we too will join you."

Silence reigned in the clearing, the Grey Wardens motionless statues and only the crackling of the flames disturbing the peace. Elissa swallowed as the stench of burning human flesh followed the billowing smoke. Her aching leg muscles made themselves known, protesting the stillness.

At last, Duncan moved, breaking the spell. A soft murmur rose as the Wardens began to talk amongst themselves. Duncan stepped down to her side, and stood beside her, watching the pyre. Smoke clung to him, tracing his outline in dark mist and irritating her nose.

She glanced at him. "What happens now?"

"We wait for the pyre to burn out."

She looked back at the fire, at the dancing red and yellow flames slowly devouring flesh and blood. "What happens to the ashes?"

"We throw them to the winds."

Not any different from any other funeral, then. Only…

"What about their families? Shouldn't their ashes go to their families first?"

Duncan shook his head. "We don't tell the families."

Elissa stared at him. "What? Why not?"

"Our secrets cannot be given to outsiders," Duncan said.

Her jaw dropped. He would deny people the right to mourn their dead relatives, to keep _secrets_?

He must have seen her expression because he pressed his lips together. "Is it not better that they think their family members are living and happy in the Order, than that they are dead?"

"Jory has a wife, and a child. Who won't even know that he is dead!" Elissa objected.

"When he joined the Wardens, he knew that there was a risk he would die fighting the darkspawn. He was told to settle all his affairs."

Elissa pressed her lips together. "Yes, but they'll spend the rest of their lives waiting for him. Not knowing if he lives or dies!" The fire crackled sharply, punctuating her words.

"This is the way we do it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Tell me, Duncan. If I had died tonight, what would you have told Fergus? Or Cailan? Or Loghain?" She kept her voice soft enough that none of the other Wardens could hear her.

Duncan's lips thinned. "I cannot hide your death from them, but protecting our secrets is paramount. They would have been told you died in the Wilds."

"And you think Loghain would have accepted that? And Cailan?"

"They would have had no choice," Duncan said sharply. "And now do you see why it is a bad idea for you to be involved with the Teyrn? It is better that we Wardens are invisible, that no-one will notice if we…disappear."

"If you think no-one will notice because Jory and Daveth disappeared…" she began heatedly.

"I am sure he will be missed and I wish it could be otherwise. But he will not be missed by anyone of consequence."

Her eyes widened. "What? How dare you!"

"It sounds cruel, I know. But I am the Commander of the Grey Wardens. I must consider the good of the Order, and no-one who misses Jory or Daveth will be in a position to cause trouble for us. But the Teyrn, and the King, very well could."

Elissa shook her head once. "Now you want me to give up my childhood friend as well? No." Her tone brooked no opposition.

"I really must insis—"

She glared. "My duty is to the Wardens now, but you don't have the only claim on me, Duncan. And both Loghain and Cailan have lived through war, they know the risk a fighter takes. If I die in battle, they will not blame the Order. "

A quick glance at the pyre revealed the bodies almost completely gone. The magic-infused flames had made quick work of flesh and cloth alike. She watched grimly as the last shred of dark green material vanished, and then turned on her heel and stalked back into the trees. Her attempt at a dramatic exit was somewhat foiled as the rest of the Wardens chose that moment to head back as well, and she was quickly lost in the crowd.

As the rest of them headed for their camp, she ducked into the shadows, still shaking with anger. Her armour clanked, rendering stealth impossible, but she hoped the soldiers she passed were too drunk or preoccupied to remember her. She made her way towards Loghain's tent, only to freeze out of sight when she spotted him.

He was still in his heavy armour, standing in front of his tent doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. The tall, balding mage from the war council was in front of him, gesturing wildly and talking at a very fast rate. She wasn't close enough to hear what he was saying, not if she wanted to stay in the shadows and out of sight, but whatever it was, Loghain did not look impressed.

He said something shortly, and his hand made a sharp motion. He turned on his heel and disappeared into his tent. The mage gaped after him for a long moment. Then he too turned and stalked away, his face set in angry lines. He brushed past the guard and nearly tripped over Elissa where she stood just outside the radius of light. He barely glanced at her. "Out of my way, girl."

Elissa stared after him in surprise. Shaking her head, she moved towards the tent. The guard standing outside was the same one who had been on duty the night before. He took a look at her face, and then stepped aside at her approach, his own expression impassive. She felt her cheeks burn and looked away. He knew what she was here for. Then she squared her shoulders, and met his gaze. Loghain was her betrothed. She had every right to meet with him in private, and it wasn't for his guards to judge her. She met his gaze, and he smiled faintly at her.

Brushing aside the tent flap, she ducked inside.

She was woken by the blaring sound of the alarm horns. Duke was already awake, and growling. She rolled out of bed, scrambling for the pieces of her armour. The arming doublet, trousers and mail shirt went on easily, but as she reached for the arm-harness, her fingers fumbled, shaking slightly. Then Loghain was behind her, fastening the buckles with practiced fingers. Without a word he helped her into the rest of her armour. As she settled her gloves, he rose and stepped back.

"Good luck," she whispered hoarsely. His dark eyes stared down at her for a long moment, and then his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His hot lips descended on hers, moving desperately against hers as though it was the last time he'd ever kiss her. She threw her arms around his neck and held on, opening her mouth beneath his as he attempted to suck the air out of her lungs.

When they separated at last, his hand was gentle against her cheek. "Don't you dare get yourself killed."

There was a look in his eyes, some cross between desperation, fear, resignation and something else she couldn't name.

"Nor you, my lord." She squeezed him tighter and then stepped back. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she drank in his face. The horn blew again. "Loghain, I love you."

His eyes darkened. "Go."

She turned and hurried from the tent with Duke, nearly crashing into the woman standing outside.

Elissa straightened. "Ser Cauthrien."

"Lady Elissa." The knight bowed, her eyes indecipherable as they moved past her to the tent she'd just emerged from.

Elissa hesitated. The knight was Loghain's most loyal lieutenant, but she liked to think they were friends, of a sort. "Don't get yourself killed. And keep him safe."

Cauthrien cracked a slight smile. "I will, my lady. And don't you get killed either. He'll be impossible to live with if you do."

"I'll try not to." Elissa knew her eyes were amused.

"Excuse me, my lady." The knight glanced at the tent again.

"Of course." Elissa headed towards the campfire where she was to meet Alistair before they headed for the Tower of Ishal together. Around her there was a stampede of movement as the army gathered itself. As she walked, she slowly became aware of an increased hum in the back of her head, like an ever-present itch that couldn't be scratched.

A straggling group of Highever soldiers passed her. One of them called out from behind his helmet, "Maker watch over you, my lady."

She smiled at them. "Maker protect you too, sers."

"Lady Elissa," a male voice called.

She turned to see Alistair jogging towards her.

"Are you ready?"

"Is anyone ever really ready for battle?" she asked dryly, curling her hand in Duke's fur.

"It's not like we're actually going to see any battle." Alistair scowled. "We're just babysitting the fire."

She sighed in exasperation. "It's our duty, Alistair."

"I know," he grumbled. "But I joined the Wardens to _do _something. Not to be given the baby jobs."

She stared at him. "The _baby_ jobs?"

"They're trying to protect us." He waved his hand. "You're being sent on this because you're Lady Cousland, and I'm—" he stopped abruptly. "I'm the next newest Grey Warden."

That clearly wasn't what he'd been about to say, but she let it go. He'd been sent with her not because he was a new Grey Warden, but because he was the King's half-brother. The look in Cailan's eye at the time had indicated that, even though she'd not known that Cailan knew about his half-brother. She glanced around the camp. By now everyone was gone, with everyone either down on the frontlines with Cailan or hiding with Loghain's forces. Everything was silent, with only the sound of the wind whistling through the trees and the gaps between the stone.

"We should get moving, my lady," Alistair said nervously, glancing towards the edge of the cliff where they could both see the light from flickering torches down below.

Then, there was a roar and the sounds of thundering feet. Her pulse quickened, and she could almost see the darkspawn charge in her mind's eye. There was an indistinct shout, and then the howls of the mabari were added to the growing din.

"Come on!" Elissa shouted. "Let's go."

Without waiting to see if Alistair was following, she took off for the bridge. Duke bounded along at her side, a low constant growl escaping him. Just as she reached the bridge, a huge rock crashed into the stone structure. The whole thing shivered, and several soldiers manning the giant crossbows were knocked over. She could feel the reverberations even through the solid earth where she stood. Glancing down the gorge, she saw the ugly clash of the king's army against the darkspawn. Both human and animal screams filled the air, along with the clashing of swords against blades and armour, and the occasional crashing earthquake as a rock was catapulted in one direction or another. Her heartbeat thundered, and her palms began to sweat inside her gauntlets. Practice battles, and even the battles in Castle Cousland or in the Wilds, were one thing. This full-scale war, with the screams of agony and masses of enemies, was quite another. Beside her, Alistair trembled almost indistinguishably.

Taking a deep breath, she began to run. Her booted feet slapped against the white stone, the sound almost inaudible under the chaos of battle. She dodged around the soldiers and avoided crumbling parts of the bridge. A sharp whistle was her only warning before she was tossed off her feet by the impact of another catapulted rock. Her head impacted sharply on the stone, and she saw stars. As they cleared, she scrambled back to her feet. Alistair had managed to keep his feet, barely, being some metres behind her and outside of the radius of the strike. Picking up her pace again, she sprinted for the far edge of the bridge.

"Almost there." Alistair panted as they stepped onto solid land. "Just up ahead."

A soldier nearly tumbled as he skidded down the stone ramp up ahead. His eyes were wild beneath his silver helmet, he was limping and he clearly bore several serious injuries from fighting. The mage who followed him down also looked the worse for wear, with several rips and tears in his robes. Elissa's brow furrowed in confusion. Fighting? There shouldn't be any reason for fighting up here. The darkspawn would have to have broken through Cailan's lines to get to the Tower.

"You," the soldier gasped out. "You're Grey Wardens, aren't you? The tower…it's been taken."

A chill settled over her heart, and her blood turned to ice.

"What are you talking about, man?" Alistair demanded. "Taken? How?"

"The darkspawn came up through the lower chambers." The soldier shook, unable to keep his muscles from trembling. "They're everywhere. Most of our men are dead."

Alistair glanced at her, and then up at the Tower above them. "Then we have to get to the beacon to light it ourselves."

"Perfect," she muttered, and reached over her back to grasp her shield and sword. Then she glanced at the soldier, who looked set to follow them up. "You're in no condition to fight, ser." With his injuries, he would be more of a liability than a help. The mage, however…

"But," he protested.

"We'll be fine," Elissa said despite her own apprehensions. "Alistair, myself, my mabari and the good mage over there." Even if she still didn't like mages…

"Yes," Alistair agreed, eyeing the injured man.

"If you are sure, Warden."

Elissa turned to the mage, who nodded firmly. "Let's go then." The four sprinted up the stone ramp, towards the base of the tower itself. Up ahead she spotted a pair of soldiers fighting desperately against a group of darkspawn. Firming her grip on her blade, she charged into the nearest clump of genlocks. Heat raced past her and she twisted in surprise to see a spray of fire emerging from the mage's hands. Three unholy shrieks filled the air as the darkspawn found themselves on fire, and the stench of burning flesh filled the air alongside the clash of metal. For a moment she was transported back two weeks, and she was running along the burning corridors of Castle Cousland in a desperate attempt to find her father. Her eyes blurred with unshed tears.

A blade whistled through the air, and she barely managed to raise her shield in time against a heavy axe. She staggered, and then recovered quickly, her blade flashing to decapitate her opponent. Another blade descended towards her head and she spun to meet that with her own blade, blocking it.

She moved on automatic, slashing and hacking at her opponents till they lay dead at her feet. When at last they were dead, she stood still, panting. Her eyes were wide and glassy, the bodies no longer the twisted, ugly bodies of the darkspawn but Oriana and Oren's mutilated forms. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

"My lady!" Alistair's hand clamped down on her arm.

She jerked, returning to the present. She was staring down at darkspawn bodies again, with Oriana and Oren nowhere in sight. The stone ruins around her were Ostagar, not her home. Maker damn it! Why did she have to have a flashback now, after two weeks? She'd fought battles since, even against darkspawn, and nothing had happened. Her eyes fell on the charred body nearby. That was the difference then. Furiously, she dashed the tears from her cheeks with her hand, and looked up.

Alistair frowned. "Are you all right?" His gaze roamed her face, and she knew he could see the tear tracks.

"I'm fine." She shoved the memories aside again and straightened her shoulders. She needed to be the warrior now. She bent to wipe her sword off on the nearest darkspawn body, containing a shudder.

"You don't look it," he said.

"We don't have time for this. Is anyone hurt?" She glanced at the mage but he seemed unharmed. Duke nudged her legs and she looked down in time to catch the slobbery mess of coins and a single gem he spat into her hand. He'd looted the bodies. Despite herself, a faint smile came to her lips. Pocketing them, she turned to the others. "Then let's keep moving." She broke into a jog, the mage keeping pace with her. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "You're useful to have in a fight." She dimly recalled the sight of lightning and bolts of magic striking at the enemy. A shiver ran down her spine.

He smiled. "I can hold my own."

"I'm sorry, I never asked your name?"

"Kevaan of the Circle of Magi." He kept his eyes focused ahead of them. "You are the Lady E…Eileen of Highever?"

"Lady Elissa," she corrected him. "And this is Duke. And behind us is Alistair."

"Pleasure to meet you, my lady. Though I wish it had been in bett-" he cut himself off as they came into sight of another group of darkspawn.

"Oh crap," Alistair swore from behind her.

"You were the one complaining you wouldn't get to fight," she shouted over her shoulder, as she charged ahead. Duke was already there, snapping and biting at the darkspawn. She drove her blade into the unprotected back of one hurlock before it had time to turn to meet her. Spinning away, she plunged into the battle. This time, as the smell of charred flesh filled the air again, she gritted her teeth and kept her mind on the present. There would be no more flashbacks; she was determined.

The sound of heavy panting filled the room. Elissa grunted as she jerked her blade from the armoured back of a hurlock. Shaking out her arms, she glanced around. Everyone, including her, was drenched in darkspawn blood from battling their way through three floors of darkspawn. She didn't think she'd ever get that stink out of her nostrils. And, given that the mage seemed to like throwing sparks of fire from his hands, she'd even managed to learn to ignore the stench of burnt bodies. The flash of magic didn't startle her quite as much anymore, either.

"Maker's breath," Alistair said disgustedly as he straightened. The edge of a white bandage peeked from underneath his helm, where he'd managed to open a long graze where an arrow had skimmed his head when he'd thought himself invincible and not needing a helmet. "What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here."

She threw him a look. "You could try telling them they're not supposed to be here?" As she moved her arm, she winced, feeling the agony of the arrow that had buried itself in her shoulder on the first floor. They'd yanked it out and crudely bandaged it to keep her from bleeding out on the floor, and then she'd swallowed a healing potion that would numb it and allow her to function for a little longer. But that potion was wearing off now, and the pain was coming back.

He snorted. "Right because clearly this is all just a misunderstanding. We'll laugh about this later."

"It's laugh or cry at this point," Kevaan said. He was trembling ever so slightly, and his pale blue eyes were glowing, a side-effect of drinking too many lyrium potions too quickly apparently. But he'd drained his mana repeatedly during their climb, and he'd had no other choice.

Duke barked from where he was waiting beside the door to the next floor. Even he suffered from several deep lacerations along his sides, courtesy of various darkspawn blades he'd been too slow to dodge.

"At any rate, we need to hurry." Alistair looked up at the staircase. "We need to get up to the top of the tower and light the signal fire in time. Teyrn Loghain will be waiting for the signal!"

"How many floors is this place anyway?" Elissa demanded.

"Next one is the top floor."

"Right." She set her shoulders and marched up the stairs. Shoving open the door, she darted inside. Then she came to an abrupt halt, her jaw dropping. "So much for your baby job, Alistair."

"Oh shit," Alistair's voice came from behind her.

A massive creature was on the far side of the room, the limp body of a soldier clutched in one enormous fist. Nearly ten foot tall when it straightened its bulk, its grey, scarred flesh was partially covered in armour, cobbled together like so many of the darkspawn she'd seen climbing the tower. A loud chomping sound, coupled with the disappearance of the man, made Elissa wince. Her stomach threatened to empty itself on the floor. Then she stepped back hastily as the ogre turned. Its dumb, beady eyes focused on the group by the door and it roared, spittle and bits of human flesh flying from its mouth.

Alistair audibly swallowed. "How in the Maker's name do we fight this thing?"

She thought quickly. Something that big was going to be slow, but powerful. The more people fighting from a distance, with time to move if its attention turned to them, the better. "Duke and I will distract it. Alistair, find a corner and use your crossbow. Kevaan, can you doing anything to slow it down?"

Kevaan nodded slowly. "I think so."

"Then do it," she snapped. "And get the hell out of the way. Duke, let's go." This was going to hurt, she could tell. She charged for the ogre, the blur of brown fur at her side. "Hamstrings, Duke."

She ducked a grabbing hand, and plunged her sword into the nearest tree trunk of a leg. A scream of pain was her reward, followed by a backhand so quick she couldn't dodge it. She flew through the air. Twisting in mid-air, she braced for the impact. Crashing to the floor, the air left her lungs with a whoosh.

She struggled upright, ignoring the aching muscles. Despite being riddled with crossbow bolts and moving a little slower than normal, the ogre was covering an impressive amount of ground with its thundering steps. Not so slow then. She swore as she realised it was headed for Kevaan. In his flimsy robe, he'd be dead within a heartbeat. "Duke!"

The dog lunged with a deafening howl, his teeth sinking into the ogre's thigh and ripping it open as he slid towards the floor. The ogre stopped, a roar of pain escaping its monstrous mouth. Duke went flying as the leg kicked back, only to crash into the floor some distance away. Elissa closed the gap to the ogre, and thrust her blade into its right arm, just below a thick, ugly scar. She danced out of the way of a fist that whistled past her nose. Now she was the prey, as she ran ahead of the lumbering ogre intent on catching her. "Keevan, slow it down again!"

"I can't." Despite the mage's words, a by-now familiar crackling sound filled the air and she heard the ogre bellow as Kevaan's lightning struck.

Alistair's shouted warning drew her attention. "Watch out!"

But it was too late, the enormous fist closed around her. Struggling, she drove her sword into its hand. As it squeezed her, agony burned along her ribs. The edge of her shield drove into her upper stomach. A sharp pain flared in her chest, and her vision began to go dark. Over its shoulder she glimpsed Alistair charging in with sword and shield in hand. Then there was a loud crashing sound, and suddenly she was released. She collapsed to the ground with a clatter. She scrambled backwards, and then to her feet. The ogre was busy with Alistair, making wild swipes at the ex-templar while Duke worried his legs. She swayed. Swiping a red vial from her belt, she tipped the fifth potion of the night down her throat. Warmth filled her muscles almost instantly; the fake strength offered by the healing potion was enough to keep her on her feet. Steadying herself, she resettled her sword and prepared to re-enter the melee.

The ogre let out a howl as blood splattered. Duke appeared beside it, and she realised the mabari had hamstrung the creature. Tightening her grip, she ran. Launching herself at the monster, she slammed into its chest. Her blade plunged into its chest. The blade sank slowly through the thick, leathery flesh. A blast of black blood caught her full in the face, and she barely got her mouth closed in time. It stumbled back two steps, off-balance like a drunkard. Its eyes went vacant and flat, and then the tension seemed to dissolve from its muscles. It toppled backwards to hit the ground, unseating her from her perch on its chest. She smashed into the ground for the third time, agony lancing along her chest again.

"Well." She coughed, watching as red flecks sprayed from her mouth. "What have we learned from that encounter?"

Alistair picked himself up from the floor. "Don't get grabbed by the ogre?"

"Are you all right?" Kevaan knelt beside her.

"Not precisely." She coughed again, and more blood emerged. A rib must have punctured a lung, she realised.

"I'm not very good at this, my lady," the mage warned. Then his hands glowed, and she felt blessed relief as the pain began to fade away in her chest. Then she jerked as a bright spark of pain flared again. "Sorry." Then he leaned back. "That's as much as I can do."

"Thank you." She levered herself upright, wincing.

"The beacon is over here. We surely missed the signal…let's light it quickly, before it's too late." Alistair waved towards a brazier in the wall.

She stumbled over to it, and then turned to Kevaan. "Can you…?"

There was a moment of silence and then flames flared amongst the wood. She could feel the rush of heat as the flames raced up the purpose-built chimney to light the beacon on the top of the tower.

"Thank the Maker," Alistair breathed, slumping against the wall.

"Now what?" Kevaan asked.

"We wait, I guess." She sighed. With a sigh she sheathed her blade and fastened her shield onto her back, wincing as it pulled at her injuries.

The mage frowned. "Why are you putting away your weapons? The darkspawn?"

"We've cleared the tower," Elissa pointed out. "There aren't any more."

"They came up the tower!" he said urgently. "From that hole we saw."

Her eyes widened. "Oh. Crap!"

With perfect, agonizing timing, the door slammed open, and a wave of darkspawn poured in. She fumbled for her blade. Sharp, agonizing pain slammed into her chest, once, twice, three times. She stared down at the three bolts buried in her chest and stomach, having punched through her armour. She couldn't breathe, and the world began to spin. Dimly, she heard Alistair's shout and then a crash, as though an armoured person collapsed to the ground. Then pain flared at the back of her head, and she knew no more.


	7. No Straight Lines

Title: Forged In Fire

Rating: M (for violence and language)

Warnings: none

Summary: Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

Disclaimer + Notes: Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers lilpumpkingirl and analect for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things. They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative or positive) are always welcome, and I do respond to each of them individually.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 – No Straight Lines<strong>

_Scales glisten like jewels around and around like a constrictor_

_Baking in the heat as with its long body wrapping And its fangs dripping_

_He lies lethargic upon to swallow its prey whole venom to paralyze_

_The sun-warmed rock forth from a jaw unhinged and kill._

_A long forked tongue flickering_

The first thing Elissa was aware of was that, although her body ached, the agonizing pain was gone. Then she realised she was listing to the side, as though the surface she was on was uneven. She heard a soft rustle of movement and her eyes snapped open. She was lying on a bed, in a small hut. A thin blanket covered her nude form, the worn thread smooth again her skin. Duke lay by her side, his weight causing the depression in the mattress she'd felt when she awoke. Stretching out a hand, she rubbed the top of his head. He barked happily, bathing her hand with his wet tongue.

By the bookcase, a young woman was flicking through the pages of a small black book. After a moment, Elissa identified her as Morrigan, the girl they'd met on their trip into the Wilds. The mage. Elissa controlled a shudder.

Morrigan looked up. "Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased."

So the old woman was here. Elissa struggled to sit up, ignoring the flash of pain through her chest. "I remember you. Morrigan, right?" As the blanket slipped, she grabbed for it to keep herself covered.

The witch nodded. "Yes indeed. And we are in the Wilds, where I am bandaging your wounds. You are welcome, by the way." She smirked. "You need not feel so self-conscious, I have seen it all. How do you feel?"

Ignoring her burning cheeks, Elissa took stock. "My body aches a little, but it could be worse. What happened? The last thing I remember is being overwhelmed by darkspawn on top of the Tower."

"Mother managed to save you and your friend, though 'twas a close call. The important thing is that you both live," Morrigan tilted her head. "The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend…he is not taking it well."

The world fell out from beneath her. "What? Loghain quit the field?"

"I do not know this Loghain. Was he the man who commanded your hidden forces?" Morrigan said dismissively. "At any rate, it was the man in the silver armour who ordered the soldiers to retreat."

There had to be a mistake. Loghain would not have abandoned Cailan on the field. "He would never have done that," she said with certainty. "I don't believe you."

Morrigan shrugged. "If you like. I say only what I saw."

"You saw it?" Elissa demanded.

"Yes," Morrigan nodded.

"How?"

"My skills allow me to take the form of animals, and I watched the battle from the trees."

No. She refused to believe it. There had to be another explanation.

_But they've been fighting constantly since you arrived_, a traitorous little voice whispered.

He would never kill Maric's son, she retorted.

_And Loghain has never hidden the fact he didn't think Cailan was worthy of his father._

No. Never. He was exasperated by Cailan, but he would never wish his death. She shoved the thoughts away, and looked up into yellow eyes.

Morrigan arched an eyebrow. "If you are finished interrogating me?"

Right. She was being ungrateful. "My apologies. It is simply…difficult, to believe. What happened to the king? And the Grey Wardens?"

"All dead," Morrigan said simply. "Without your extra forces, your king had no chance."

Elissa wanted not to believe it, but she couldn't. Morrigan's eyes were too serious. And if the battle had not gone ill, she would have awoken in the Ostagar infirmary, not here. So however it happened, Cailan was dead. Her childhood friend was dead, slaughtered on the battlefield. In her mind's eye, she could see him sprawled dead on the ground, like the knights Howe had killed in Castle Cousland. Blood pooled around him, a long blade pinning him to the earth. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, desperately suppressing the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. There would be no hope of finding Fergus now either. With the whole darkspawn army on the surface, he had to hide…if he wasn't dead.

"Your friend has veered between denial and grief since Mother told him. He is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke." The witch set a pile of clothes and armour down on the end of the bed, next to the scratched leather backpack.

Elissa blinked back her tears. "My friend?" she frowned.

"The blond man who was with you before."

Alistair, then. "All right." She looked at the pile of clothes and then at Morrigan.

The other woman sighed harshly, and then turned around to face away from the bed. "'Tis not as though I have not seen your body before."

Elissa chose not to answer that. Instead, she nudged Duke off the bed and swung her legs off the bed, wincing as a sharp bolt of pain reverberated through her side. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself and levered herself up. Her legs wobbled slightly as she regained her feet, but the pain didn't return.

"Is he all right?"

As she shook out the clothes, the smell of wild flowers and forests wafted up from the material.

"Physically he is fine. Far more so than you are," Morrigan answered.

"Were my injuries severe?" She vaguely recalled being crushed by the ogre, and feelings her ribs snap.

"Yes, Mother spent the last five days healing you. But I expect you shall be fine," Morrigan assured her. "The darkspawn did nothing that mother could not heal."

Elissa froze in the act of tying the breastband around her chest. "Five days?"

"Yes." The witch seemed amused at her disbelief.

Elissa forced her body to move, reaching for the trousers and shirt. "Tell me." She stared down at the embroidered wyvern on the collar of the shirt. _Loghain._ Had he betrayed Cailan, leaving everyone to die? Had he left _her_ to die? No. Never. And yet, what other answer could there be? If Morrigan was telling the truth, Loghain's forces had never engaged the enemy. Had he been knocked out by a traitor before he could give the command to engage? Had he not seen the beacon light up? Had Alistair and she been so late with the beacon that it was all over?

"…arrows, including one that punctured your lung," Morrigan listed. "As well as a ruptured kidney, a dislocated shoulder, a twisted ankle, a broken wrist and a concussion."

Wrenching her mind back into her surroundings, she frowned. "That shouldn't have knocked me out for five days. I'm decent." She reached for her armour next, gritting her teeth as her wrist twinged under the weight.

Morrigan turned around. "Mother kept you asleep. The arrows were poisoned, and your body was not fighting as well as it should have, given the presence of the child."

For the third time in as many minutes, it was like a sledgehammer had slammed into her. Her armour clattered to the floor from nerveless fingers. "The child?" Elissa echoed, eyes wide.

"Your child," Morrigan said impatiently.

"I don't have a child," she protested.

Morrigan stared at her. "Well, not now you don't."

"I don't understand," Elissa rubbed her forehead.

The witch sighed. "You were pregnant with a babe, you know this, yes?"

"No," Elissa swayed, reaching to grasp the nearest wall. A babe? Her heart pounded in her chest.

"Did you not sense the child's conception?" Morrigan frowned.

Elissa shook her head numbly. "I'm not a mage."

She'd only slept with one man. This was Loghain's child. His heir. _Gwaren's_ heir.

"Ah," Morrigan nodded. "I see."

Elissa looked down at her flat belly. "I'm pregnant?" There was a child growing inside her.

"No. Mother fought for three days to keep your baby alive. But it died."

"D…Died?" Elissa croaked. Her hands went convulsively to her stomach.

"Yes," Morrigan said. She looked a little lost in the face of Elissa's emotions. "Mother did try. But between the…strangeness of your blood, and the poison…"

Her baby was dead. "Strangeness in my blood?" Duke whined softly in response to her mood, and his large head nudged against her side.

"It felt like darkspawn." Morrigan shrugged.

The Joining. When she'd drunk the strange mixture that included darkspawn blood. A roar of fury rose up inside her. That ritual had killed her child! Her blood roared in her ears and her stomach rebelled. The next thing she knew, what little was inside her was now on the floor.

"Are you all right?" Morrigan sounded uncertain.

Elissa straightened, unsteadily. "Yes," she said after a moment. She gathered her manners. "I'm sorry about the mess."

"'Tis nothing," Morrigan waved her hand. An intense expression crossed her face, and the smelly mess was gone.

Elissa was too distraught to startle at the casual use of magic. "What happened to the…child?"

"It was reabsorbed into your body when you miscarried," she explained.

Elissa swallowed, shoving her battered emotions aside, and firmed her shoulders. She had a duty. She did not have time to grieve for the child she never knew, for her best friend or for any of those who died. If the darkspawn had won, there was no chance the Blight was over. And Duncan had said all the Grey Wardens were at the battle, so she and Alistair were now the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Stopping the Blight was not going to be done from inside this hut. "Are we safe here? Where are the darkspawn?"

"We are safe here, for the moment. Mother's magic keeps the darkspawn away. Once you leave, 'tis uncertain what will happen. The horde has moved on, so you might avoid it." Morrigan didn't look particularly fussed either way.

"Why did your mother rescue us?" With numb fingers, she slid into her armoured trousers.

"I wonder at that myself but she tells me nothing. Perhaps you were all she could reach," she tapped a long finger against her lips. "_I_ would have rescued your king. A king would be worth a much higher ransom."

Elissa's stomach twisted again. "Much, much higher."

The witch didn't seem to see her discomfort. "What a sensible attitude. Mother is seldom sensible, however."

"How _did_ she rescue us?" Elissa fastened the breastplate.

"She turned into a giant bird and plucked you from the tower, one in each talon." Morrigan smirked. "If you do not believe that tale, then I suggest you ask mother yourself. She might even tell you."

Elissa somehow doubted that. "Are there any survivors beside us?"

"Only stragglers that are long gone. You would not want to see what is happening in the valley now," Morrigan's lip curled.

"I see. Thank you for helping to heal me." Duke barked his agreement.

Morrigan looked taken aback. "I…you are welcome. Though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer."

"Nevertheless," Elissa insisted. "Thank you." Sliding her sword into the sheath on her back, she winced as her arm muscles protested the movement. "Your mother is outside?

"Well, she is not in here," Morrigan cocked an eyebrow.

Elissa smiled faintly. "True." As she made her way to the door, she took stock of her body. The armour felt heavier than normal, and her body ached, particularly her sword arm, shoulder and her side. She could fight, but would not be nearly as quick as normal. It would take her some time to recover, she suspected.

Pushing open the door, she spotted Alistair standing at the edge of the small lake, facing away. The old woman, Morrigan's mother, was standing nearby. Elissa's gaze caught on the gleaming white ruins in the distance. The crumbling ruins of Ostagar were so large that they could be seen from almost anywhere in the Korcari Wilds, including this hut in the middle of the marshes. She wondered that the stones were not red with the blood spilled there.

Morrigan's mother's gaze flickered over Elissa, and she gave an odd half-laugh. "See! Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, lad."

The blond man spun. "My lady! You…you're alive. I thought you were dead for sure."

He was visibly tired, grief etching lines on his face that hadn't been there when she last saw him. A beard was starting to grow in along his jaw, making him look even more haggard.

"I'm not, thanks to Morrigan's mother." She nodded to the old woman. "Were you injured seriously?"

"I was, but they've been healed." Alistair shook his head. "T-this doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead atop that tower."

"Do not speak of me as though I am not here, lad," the grey-haired witch said sharply.

He flushed. "Sorry." He gestured helplessly. "But you, ah, never told us your name."

She snorted. "Names are pretty, but useless." She seemed to consider the question. "The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. That will do."

_Flemeth?_ Elissa's spine stiffened. She knew the stories of Flemeth, of course. Nan had often told folktales, and that included the myriad of stories about the Witch of the Wilds. If even half those stories were true, this woman could reach into minds and pluck out thoughts, or destroy them with a blink. But the Flemeth of the stories was most often an old crone, and though this woman was elderly, she wasn't exactly the sort of crone Elissa had always pictured.

Alistair took a step back, paling. "_The_ Flemeth? From the legends? Daveth was right, you are the Witch of the Wilds."

"And what does that mean?" Flemeth retorted. "I know a bit of magic and it has served you both well, has it not?" The flash of her eyes was a sharp contrast to the worn, patched robe she wore.

Elissa broke in before Alistair could get them into further trouble. Irritating the mage who had just saved your life was not the best way to go about things. "We are grateful for it. Is there a way we can repay you?"

Flemeth laughed. "All I wish you to do is what you are meant to do. It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight." She raised an eyebrow. "Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

"But we were fighting the darkspawn," Alistair protested, looking indignant. Then anger overtook his features. "The king had nearly defeated them. Why would Loghain do this?"

Elissa gritted her teeth. "I don't…won't believe he did. Not without proof."

"And my word is not good enough for you?" Flemeth pinned her with a stare.

"I know that battles rarely go as planned. And I won't condemn him just on what you saw." Loghain had expected there to_ be_ an after. He wouldn't have simply abandoned the battle. "Something must have happened!"

"He was a coward! Or a traitor," Alistair snapped.

"He wouldn't do that! He lives for Ferelden. He's nearly given his life for this country a dozen times or more!"

Flemeth tapped her bottom lip with a long, worn finger. "The hearts of men hold shadows darker than any tainted creature, girl. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmanoeuvre? Or perhaps he doesn't see that it is the evil behind it that is the true threat?" She cackled. "Or perhaps he was not thinking straight because he was distracted by some pretty girl."

Elissa hid a flinch. Somehow the old witch knew about her relationship with Loghain.

Alistair's eyes narrowed, clearly ignoring the old witch's last comment. "The Archdemon is the true threat."

"Then we need to find this Archdemon," Elissa suggested, trying to steer the conversation away from Loghain. Regardless of Loghain's actions or motives or anything, she and Alistair were the only Grey Wardens left in Ferelden. It would fall to them to defeat the Blight. If Loghain was blameless, they could go to him for help. But if he wasn't, a niggling voice reminded her, they would need to have other plans.

Alistair gave her a disbelieving look. "By ourselves, my lady? No Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the armies of a half-dozen nations at his back."

Ah, right. Elissa had forgotten that aspect of the legends. But in her defence, they all focused on the heroism of the Wardens.

"Not to mention, I don't know how." He frowned.

"How to defeat the Archdemon?" Flemeth interjected. "Or how to raise an army? It seems to me those are two very different questions." Her tone turned mocking. "Have the Grey Wardens no allies these days?"

Alistair seemed oblivious to her insinuations. "I don't know. Duncan said the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called. But with Loghain in charge of the throne…"

"Where are the nearest Grey Wardens from here? Other than the Orlesians?" Elissa asked. "Could we not contact them?"

"If we go north and cross the sea, there's bound to be some in the Free Marches. But I just don't know where. Weisshaupt Fortress is our headquarters, but that's thousands of miles away." He paused. "Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely."

"Arl Eamon?" Elissa echoed slowly. Cailan's uncle. The Arl who made no secret of his ambitions to be a Teyrn, or at least to wield the power of one. His lucrative trade with Orzammar made Redcliffe the third point of Ferelden's power triangle, the other two being Gwaren for its natural resources and Highever for the international trade. He was an odd choice for an ex-templar to pick. She'd expected he would have wanted to go to the Grand Cleric, not a noble.

Alistair shrugged. "I suppose…Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar, he still has all his men. And he was Cailan's uncle. He would never stand for what Loghain has done."

Elissa gritted her teeth to keep from snapping at him.

"I know him," Alistair said. "He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help."

"And say he doesn't help us? What then?" Elissa demanded.

Flemeth raised an eyebrow. "You have more at your disposal than simply old friends."

"Of course, the treaties." Alistair's eyes lit up. "Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages and other places. They're obligated to help us during a Blight."

"I may be old but elves, dwarves, this Arl Eamon and who knows what else. This sounds like an army to me," Flemeth drawled.

He turned to Elissa. "So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and…build an army?"

"I doubt it will be as easy as that," Elissa said slowly. What the hell was she doing? Agreeing to go around the country, building an army? Behind the throne's back, no less! Behind Loghain's back! And yet, what choice did she have? Loghain had failed to stop the Blight, Cailan was dead, and she was a Grey Warden. A Grey Warden who'd spent less than twenty-fours awake since becoming one, but a Grey Warden nonetheless. Her duty was to stop the Blight. And if there was one thing being a Cousland taught her, it was duty.

Flemeth laughed darkly. "When is it ever?"

"It's always been the Grey Wardens' duty to stand against the Blight," Alistair agreed. "And right now, we're the Grey Wardens."

"So you are set then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" Flemeth sounded almost gleeful.

Elissa's eyes narrowed but she kept her voice steady. "Yes. Thank you for everything, Flemeth." Now, if they could get away from here quickly….

"No, no," the witch waved it off with a gnarled hand. "Thank you. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I." She paused. "There is one more piece of help I can offer you before you go."

The creak of the door drew their attention as Morrigan exited the hut. She crossed the grass towards them. She ignored the two Wardens, looking instead to her mother. "The stew is bubbling, Mother. Shall we have two guests for the eve, or none?"

Flemeth wore an expression of gleeful anticipation. "The Grey Wardens will be going shortly, and you will be going with them."

What? Elissa blinked, barely keeping her jaw from dropping. Alistair had no such ability, and was gaping at the witch.

Morrigan's manner was mock sympathetic. "Such a sh—What?" Horror spread across her face.

Her mother cackled. "You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears!" she mocked.

Elissa stepped forward, into the line of sight of both women. "Thank you. But if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us-"

"Her magic will be useful," Flemeth cut her off mid-sentence. "And she knows the way out of the Wilds."

"I don't think—" Elissa began. Travelling with a mage was never a good idea.

Flemeth fixed her with a stare. "You'll have to get over your…fear of mages at some point, girl."

"I don't fear mages!"

She didn't! She didn't trust them certainly, and regarded them with wariness. But the only mages she feared were the ones trying to kill her, and Elissa feared everyone who tried to kill her, mage or not.

Flemeth laughed. "Lying to me is one thing. Lying to yourself is another. In any case, Morrigan shall go with you."

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan demanded crossly.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years." Flemeth waved a hand. "Consider this your chance. As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

Well, that didn't leave very much room for interpretation did it? "Very well, we'll take her with us."

Alistair cleared his throat carefully. "Not to…look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems? Outside of the Wilds, she's an apostate."

Flemeth glared. "If you do not want help from us illegal mages, young man, maybe I should have left you on top of that tower."

He coughed awkwardly. "Point taken." His cheeks had flushed a dull red.

"Mother, this is not how I wanted this," Morrigan protested again. "I am not even ready-"

"You must be ready." Flemeth's eyes were intense. "Alone these two must unite Ferelden against the Blight. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail and all will fall beneath the Blight. Even I."

"Well, that just boosted my confidence way up," Alistair muttered under his breath.

Elissa hid a grin.

"I…" Morrigan swallowed. "…understand."

"And you Grey Wardens?" Flemeth whirled on them. "Do you understand? I give you that which I treasure above all else in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed?"

Elissa schooled her face into polite acceptance. "I understand."

Morrigan sighed, her irritation clear. "Allow me to get my things, if you please."

Then she turned on her heel and swept off.

That night, Elissa scooped the heavy rabbit and wild onion stew she just finished cooking into a roughly hewn bowl that Flemeth had provided them with, hiding the wince as still recovering muscles protested. Duke looked up from the skinned rabbit she'd tossed to him earlier, and gave a soft whine. Quietly she made her way over to where Alistair sat in front of his tent, at the edge of the campfire's light. She crouched and held it out to him silently.

He raised dull eyes to meet hers. "Thank you, my lady."

Since leaving Flemeth's hut, he'd withdrawn into himself, being so quiet and sullen that she'd not dared try to talk to him.

"My name is Elissa."

Surprise chased confusion across his face before both emotions faded into the empty expression he'd worn before. "It wouldn't be appropriate, my lady."

Elissa sighed. "I'm going to spend months on the road with just you and Morrigan. I'm not going to have you constantly standing on ceremony."

She would go mad if she heard nothing but 'my lady' this and 'my lady' that constantly. At least before, she'd always had her family and friends to use her name. Her heart clenched at the reminder.

He looked unsure but nodded.

"Good," she said briskly. "Now, we're going to need to take shifts for watch tonight." She paused to see if he was going to say anything. No, it appeared not. "I'll take the first watch, then I'll wake you and Morrigan can have the last. All right?"

He nodded silently again. As he looked away, she nearly gasped. In the flickering of the fire, the resemblance to Cailan was even greater. Cailan. Who was dead. Her stomach twisted. Then a horrifying thought dawned on her. If Cailan was dead…this was the heir apparent. Never mind that Alistair was a bastard, he was the last of the Theirin bloodline. A bitter smile twisted her lips. For a Theirin king, the nobles would ignore even that he was a Warden.

After a long moment, she shook herself. It hardly mattered now. She would never be able to convince him to go with her to Denerim, given his opinion of Loghain. He clearly saw his duty as a Grey Warden being more important than his duty as a king. So instead, she would have to make sure he lived through this and didn't get himself killed by darkspawn before he _could_ take the throne. _As if I didn't have enough to worry about._

Walking back to the fire, she filled the other two bowls with stew. Heading towards the campfire Morrigan had set up for herself some distance away, she fought to keep herself from limping or favouring her left ankle, which was currently shooting bolts of pain up her leg.

The witch glanced up at her approach and raised an eyebrow. She was surrounded by dried leaves and herbs dangling from a strange frame she'd constructed from sticks and twine.

"Dinner." Elissa held the bowl out.

Morrigan took it with a nod.

"We need to set up a watch." Elissa took a sip from her bowl, letting the warmth of the stew fill her belly. "I thought I'd take the first watch, Alistair the second and you could take the last one?" She chewed on a large chunk of rabbit, working her jaw until it softened enough to swallow.

Morrigan nodded. "Very well."

Elissa eyed her for a moment, hesitating, and then plunged on. "Is this what you want? You didn't seem very happy at leaving to come with us, and regardless of what your mother said, I will not keep you here if you prefer to leave."

The yellow hawk eyes looked up. "What I want is to see mountains. I wish to witness the ocean and step in it. To experience a city rather than see it in my mind." She sighed. "So yes, this is what I want. Actually leaving was…harder than I thought. Maybe Mother was right, it simply had to be done quickly." She paused. "You seem to be taking this 'betrayal' much more calmly than your friend. You, at least, can still function."

Elissa sighed wearily. "His name is Alistair. And… well, I don't know that I believe this betrayal is quite what it seems."

Morrigan shrugged. "As you like. In any case, I wanted to talk to you about our meals."

Elissa glanced at her. "Despite what Alistair said earlier, you don't have to cook I suppose."

Morrigan snorted. "From all accounts I cook better than that oaf, and Mother says _you_ are a noble."

"I cooked dinner tonight," Elissa protested. "Fa…Father ensured that we could survive on the road without help." After the humiliation of being dependant on others during the war with Orlais, Bryce Cousland had been determined that his children would never suffer the same way.

"He taught you soldier's cooking clearly," the witch said briskly. "I, on the other hand, cook proper, nourishing food."

"You don't like my cooking?" The beginnings of a smile quirked Elissa's lips.

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "It is edible, certainly. But there are herbs I can add that will make it better."

"Very well, then. If you cook every second night, and let me help so I can learn?" She refused to be dependent on Morrigan. Better for Elissa to learn to cook as well, in case their paths diverged.

Morrigan nodded sharply. "Certainly. Now, Mother gave us enough dried supplies for some days, but if you prefer fresh food, we will need to hunt tomorrow. Your friend there looks like he'd make far too much noise in his armour, even if one could get him to stop sulking. That leaves you and I, though your armour looks quite noisy too."

"He is grieving, not sulking," Elissa said quietly. "But yes, I can hunt." She considered her companion. "You have spells for hunting?"

Morrigan smiled viciously. "Not precisely. But I can take the shape of a predator easily. You have objections to hunting with a wolf?"

Elissa swallowed. "No."

"Would you be able to recognise various herbs as we travel?"

"Herbs? You know how to make healing poultices?"

"I am a witch," Morrigan said dryly. "So, yes, I do."

Elissa glanced at her. "Maybe. It will depend on the herb." That was a stroke of luck. Healing could be expensive, and if Morrigan could make her own, they would save a lot of gold they didn't have.

"Good. I'll need you to keep an eye out for elfroot, deep mushroom, arnica, meadowsweet, butterbur, willowbark and thyme. Those will be enough as basics." Morrigan gestured to the display of drying herbs near her fire. "I collected some as we walked today, but we will soon need more."

Elissa nodded. "I know those ones." She tipped the bowl against her lips, letting the last of the stew drain down her throat. "Deep mushroom will be hard to find out here though. We'll probably have to rely on merchants for that. When we stop in villages, you should come along with me and show me what other things you'll need."

Morrigan gave her a surprised glance. "I confess to being surprised at your generosity."

Elissa smiled grimly. "With the darkspawn roaming the land, we'll no doubt have to fight our way across Ferelden. We can't afford to skimp on something that could keep one of us alive." She could feel the distant hum of darkspawn in her mind, and they'd had more than one close call earlier in the day.

The brunette nodded. "A most practical view." She glanced towards her tent impatiently.

Elissa straightened, ignoring the bright lance of pain in her side. "Good night, Morrigan."

"Good night," the witch returned.

Elissa moved away from the warmth of the small fire, towards the larger fire they had set up for Alistair and herself. When she arrived beside it, Alistair was nowhere in sight. His bowl was discarded by the fire, waiting for the next morning when they'd take the dishes to the nearby stream to clean them. She glanced at his tent, noting the closed flap. He was asleep, or at least pretending to be.

Crawling into her own tent, she rummaged through her backpack and pulled out one of the pain-killing potions Flemeth had provided her with. Tipping the flask back, she drained it. A few moments later the aches and pains began to fade. Then she crawled back out of the tent and headed for a large log just out of the circle of firelight. Settling down on it, she let her eyes adjust to the dimness.

Duke crept across from the place by the fire he'd claimed as his own and flopped down at her feet. She tangled her fingers in his fur, stroking lightly over the thin scar running the length of his flank.

Abruptly, a half-whimper, half-sob broke the silence. Her head whipped around towards Alistair's tent where the sound had come from. Her lips tightened at the blatant sound of grief. Not so asleep then.

Her hands trembled. Cailan was dead. Cailan and his entire section of the army, including half the Highever guards. And it was Loghain who had abandoned them to that fate. Her betrothed had as good as killed her best friend. A single tear trailed down her cheek silently, before she blinked back the others.

A slow, simmering anger began to burn inside as the shock that had gripped her since she woke finally faded. He would have to do some fast talking to explain that one away, she thought savagely. There had better be a _damn_ good reason for his actions.


	8. Salt In The Wound

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect _for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things_. _They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative or positive) are always welcome, and I do respond to each of them individually.

Chapter 8 – Salt in the Wound

_A line of fire_

_Burning_

_Deep_

∞A poem etched on the walls of the smallest cell at Fort Drakon, surrounded by blood stains

_The late afternoon sun shone brightly, its rays warming her skin. Laughing, she jogged down the hallway, past the servants diligently scrubbing at the flagstones. Her green skirts swirled in the soft breeze funnelling through the open-air corridors. Arriving outside the Main Hall, she greeted the two guards with a smile. _

"_Lovely day, milady." Ser Wyatt grinned at her. Ser Mikael pushed the door open, and Elissa stepped into the darkened hall._

_Flames licked at the walls, and the stench of burning wood filled her nostrils. Elissa turned her horrified gaze on the bodies strewn upon the floor. Her father's empty blue eyes stared up at her from less than a foot away, old blood dried on his lips and staining his clothes. A gaping wound in his chest revealed how he'd died. Eleanor Cousland's head lay just beyond her husband, her body slightly further on still. The blood that bubbled from her severed neck was fresh and still wet, the pool spreading to soak into her slashed and hacked armour. The fingers of her outstretched hand touched the bones of a white skeleton sprawled across the floor with one foot and a knee at odd, impossible angles. As she watched, both her parents' bodies shrivelled, the skin clinging to the bones as though all the water was drawn from it. Her mother's luxurious hair fell out of her skull, and her flesh began to rot. Within moments Elissa was staring down at a decapitated skeleton, white save for the stains of dried blood on the bone. Her stomach rebelled, and she turned away abruptly, her hand over her mouth as she tried to contain her disgust._

_At first she didn't register what she was seeing, but then her eyes focused and she stumbled back against the door. Orianna's hacked and bleeding body was thrown across Oren's, as though she'd tried to protect her son with her own life. If so, she had failed, because the little body was marked with deep wounds that still bled sluggishly, pouring Oren's lifeblood out upon the stones. _

_"Why, little sister?" A male voice whispered. _

_Elissa knew what she'd see before she turned. She looked up into Fergus's face. Anguish was in his eyes as he stared down at the remains of his wife and child. "Why did you leave them to die?"_

_"I didn't!" she objected._

_"You ran away, leaving them and their bodies to Howe." Fergus held her gaze. "You left Mother to him, to be raped and killed. Father to be murdered in his own castle. And you didn't even fight to save them."_

_"No," she whispered, "I didn't wa-" _

_"How could you, Ellie? How could you?" Fergus's outline began to ripple as though swept away on a breeze._

_"No, Fergus! Wait!" She cried, reaching forward._

_But her brother shook his head sadly, and then dissolved into the air, wafting away._

_Tears streamed down her cheeks as Elissa clutched at the air futilely. "No. No."_

"_Ellie," another voice murmured._

_She whipped around, and then staggered back against the closed door. _

"_I died because of him." Bright armour gleamed despite the lack of light as an unharmed Cailan strode forward towards her, a furious expression on his face. "The bastard pulled the army back, leaving me and my army to die useless deaths."_

"_You're his son-in-law," she said weakly, "he wouldn't…didn't…"_

_Cailan's lips twisted in an ugly sneer that looked out of place on his normally cheerful face. "And he was your fiancé, but that didn't stop him from leaving you to die in that Tower, did it?"_

_She shook her head violently. "He wouldn't…something happened… stopped him…"_

"_Did it?" another voice hissed, hoarse and guttural with the undertone of a serpent's scream._

_Elissa's head whipped around, and her stomach lurched. "Murderer!" She fumbled for the sword on her back, drawing it with an awkward scrape of metal on metal. A hurlock stumbled out of the shadows. Its two-handed blade pointed towards the ground as armoured hands gripped the enormous sword, the glint of torchlight lighting the treasonous, pointed face of Rendon Howe. Elissa lunged, striking out with her sword. It skidded off a shield, and a sudden move on his part had her blade spinning across the stone floor, fiery sparks flaring whenever it struck the ground._

"_Did something happen to make Loghain quit the field? Or did he plan to abandon His Majesty all along?" The cruel eyes were fastened on her as it spoke the words with relish. "Did they not quarrel for days before the battle? About the Orlesians? The Wardens? And would a father not want revenge for his daughter's humiliation when the whole court knew of Cailan's…indiscretions? The Hero of River Dane's protectiveness of his daughter is legendary, after all."_

_Elissa's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before she found her voice. "Anora loves Cailan. Loghain would never do that to her!" _

"_Does she? She is her father's daughter, a most practical creature." The darkspawn-Howe's voice slid over her like oil. "They know nothing of love. Of the…softer emotions."_

"_Loghain loves me," she flared, resettled her grip on her blade._

"_Are you sure about that?" The darkspawn flashed a smile of sharp, pointed teeth. "He was happy as a widower for seventeen years before you came along. What have you offered him that a thousand other eager women have not? Your looks, your name? You are pretty but hardly the most beautiful woman to have thrown yourself at him. And what would the King's closest advisor and father-in-law need with the Cousland name, great though it was?"_

"_Companionship, friendship, affection, love," she spat back, silencing the little voice of agreement in her head._

_Howe laughed gratingly. "You are thirty-four years younger than him. What in Thedas could you have in common with him? What companionship could you offer beyond your…skills in the bedroom, my dear? And you are neither a talented Antivan whore nor an Orlesian courtesan, or even a priceless noble virgin any longer. That little gift you gave him in Ostagar, didn't you?"_

_His body rippled and suddenly it was Loghain standing across from her, in the silverite armour he'd worn every day since the Battle of River Dane. "You thought I loved you?" The cold smirk and even icier glare he used to such good effect against those who irritated him was now turned against her. "What are you compared to Rowan? A mere child compared to the Queen of Ferelden? You were simply convenient."_

_It was like a blow to her chest, as fears she'd never voiced resounded through the hall. The air left her lungs in a rush. "You said you loved me."_

_His smile was dark. "A man may say many things he doesn't mean, my dear."_

"_Still so sure that he can love? That it could keep him from killing me?" Cailan demanded, stepping further forward. _

_Loghain smirked again. Without any further ado, he spun and his sword swung. Cailan's head dropped like a stone, and then rolled till it rested at her feet, blank unseeing eyes staring up at her. His armoured body collapsed with a loud clang._

_She stared down at the head, and then screamed._

Elissa jerked upright in her tent, a hand over her mouth to catch the sound before it escaped. It'd been a dream. She was in a tent, on the road to Lothering. Not in the Hall at Castle Cousland. She had not watched her parents' bodies wither away. Howe was not a darkspawn. And Loghain had never said that. There was no reason to think something had not come up that had prevented him from riding into battle, that he had not had a good reason to do what he did. No reason at all.

And Fergus had never said she abandoned her family. Fergus, who could be dead or alive at this moment, she had no way of knowing. Tears trickled down her face for long moments as she cried silently. Duke whuffed silently, and licked her face from where he lay at her feet.

Light had begun to stream through the thin material of the tent, and she shivered in the cool dawn air. Outside, the forest was silent, without even the sound of birds greeting the day. They would need to move soon, to arrive in Lothering early enough that morning to find accommodation for the night and shop for supplies. Silently, Elissa rolled out of the bedroll and stripped out of the fine linen sleep clothes she'd appropriated from her brother's tent in Ostagar. Carefully folding the garments, she put them back into her backpack and changed into a set of tunic and trousers before emerging from the tent.

Two hours later, they were almost at Lothering. Alistair lingered behind the others, still quiet and reserved. Elissa's attention was drawn by group of men sprawled ahead. What on earth were they doing just sitting there? Her gaze swept over the rough armour and weapons, and the overturned carts blocking the road. She felt the blood drain from her face as she spotted the dead body of a knight sprawled beside them.

One of the men jumped to his feet at their approach, a broad smile appearing on his face. "Wake up, gentlemen. More travellers to attend to. I'd guess the pretty one is the leader."

Elissa stared at him as awareness dawned. These were brigands. Robbers. Duke growled at her side, and she clamped a hand on his collar to keep him from charging.

Another one of the robbers glanced at the four of them. "Err…they don't look like them others, you know…" His eyes dropped to a growling Duke. "Uh, maybe we should just let these ones pass…"

"Nonsense," the first man said cheerily, his grey-blue eyes fixed on the approaching party. "Greetings, travellers."

"Highwaymen." Alistair was alert, if sombre, and paying attention for the first time in days. "Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose."

Morrigan smiled darkly. "They are fools to get in our way. I say we teach them a lesson."

The slight, dark-haired man laughed. "Is that anyway to greet someone? Tsk Tsk. A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on."

Elissa's eyebrow rose. For a brief moment, she was tempted to take Morrigan's idea and kill the lot of them, simply to prevent these parasites from preying on others who passed by. But it was one thing to kill darkspawn, and quite another to kill another human. She'd killed when escaping Highever, to be sure, but that had been pure self-defence. Perhaps she could…convince…these men to let them pass. She stepped forward, letting her eyes gleam contemptuously as she scanned the poorly armed group. "You really should listen to your friend. We're not refugees."

The heavy-set man who'd spoken second blanched. "What did I tell you? There's no wagons, and this one looks armed."

_This_ one looks armed? Both Wardens clearly bore weapons, and it took a fool not to recognize the mage's staff on Morrigan's back. Elissa revised her opinion of the man's intelligence downwards.

"The toll applies to everyone, Hanric," the bandit leader scolded him, as though speaking to a child. "That's why it's a toll, and not, say, a refugee tax."

Slowly, realisation dawned on his face. "Oh, right. Even if you're no refugee, you still gotta pay."

Elissa held back a sigh. "I don't have that kind of coin," she lied. Quite well if she did say so herself.

"Ah, and if I don't believe you…how do we solve this predicament?"

Apparently she hadn't lied well enough. Perhaps, intimidation? "Do you really want to fight a Grey Warden?" Somehow she didn't think invoking the Cousland name would work here, at all.

The second man gasped. "Did she say she was a Grey Warden? Them ones that killed the king!"

Elissa's jaw dropped open. _Killed the king_! What in the Maker's name was going on here? Why were Grey Wardens being blamed for Cailan's death?

"Traitors to Ferelden I hear," the first man's eyes narrowed greedily. "Teyrn Loghain's put quite a bounty on any who are found."

Her stomach roiled. Loghain had a _bounty_ on the heads of the Grey Wardens? And was calling them traitors? Elissa knew as well as the next person what being a 'traitor to Ferelden' meant. The moment she was 'caught', her head would be on a pike outside Denerim. Both hers and Alistair's. Her hopes that this was all a mistake, that maybe she could go to Loghain, talk this out and find out what the hell happened, were ashes in her mouth now. Her fingers tightened on her sword hilt, the knuckles turning white. She had thought he loved her. But Loghain had not just left her to die, now he actively sought her death. Or at least, he didn't care if she died, the victim of this 'bounty'. The ring on her hand suddenly felt icy cold, burning like a brand into her flesh.

"But aren't them Grey Wardens good? I mean, really good? Good enough to kill the king?" the not-very-intelligent one babbled.

The leader glanced back at them fearfully. "You have a point. Well, let's forget about the toll. We'll just leave you to your darkspawn-fighting, king-killing ways." His smile was strained.

Numbness faded, as anger began to burn inside her. _Traitors._

"We didn't kill the king!" Alistair burst out.

The bandit brightened. "Ah! See, they weren't the ones who killed him. You weren't good enough to be chosen for that job, I take it." He gave them a look of mock sympathy. "Well in that case, I'm afraid we will need that toll."

"Forget it," Elissa said flatly through gritted teeth. "I'm not paying."

_Traitors._

The leader sighed. "Well, I can't say I'm pleased to hear that. We have rules you know."

"Yeah, we get to ransack your corpse, then. Those are the rules, you know."

Elissa restrained the impulse to roll her eyes. Instead, she glared at them, letting her hand shift on her sword hilt. "You can certainly try."

"Well, this is going nowhere. Let's finish this, gents!"

Five men charged.

One failed attempt at intimidation then. Maker damn it. She drew her sword, barely parrying the leader's sword to buy herself time to settle her shield on her arm.

One of the bandits, she couldn't tell which, was suddenly shrieking. "A mage! They've got a mage!"

_Traitors_. Elissa threw herself into the fight with a scream, her blade flashing like quicksilver as she fought out her fury and pain.

Barely trained as the bandits were, it was only minutes later when she had her sword pressed against the leader's throat. Grey-blue eyes stared up at her, panic clearly visible. All four of the other bandits were dead, red blood spilling onto the grey stones.

"All right," the leader gasped out. "We surrender. W…w…We're just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all." He clearly hadn't realised his companions were dead.

Elissa didn't move her blade, only by dint of enormous self-control refraining from slitting his throat where he stood as anger continued to pulse through her. "Get by? You're a criminal!"

"Yes, I'm a criminal," he said quickly. "I admit it. I apologise. Just let me go. I'll do anything!"

Elissa's eyes narrowed. "I want some questions answered," she said, ignoring his insincere apology. "What's this about the Grey Wardens being traitors?" Why had Loghain done this?

"E-Everyone's talking about how the Grey Wardens b-betrayed the king at Ostagar," he babbled, nearly stumbling over his words. "Got him, and themselves, killed. Teyrn Loghain pulled out just in time. First thing he's doing as regent is putting a bounty on Grey Wardens."

Her sword dropped to her side, nerveless fingers barely keeping hold of the blade. Each sentence was like a nail in the coffin of her hopes. So Loghain _had_ deserted. And now he sought the death of every Grey Warden. And that included her. Her stomach felt like lead, and her heart, ice. She swallowed heavily. "Are ther- have you heard about any other survivors from the battle?"

"Couple, maybe." The brigand seemed to relax a bit now that her blade was gone. "A group of wounded ash warriors came through earlier…got right out of their way." He rolled his eyes.

_And you couldn't do that for us? _Elissa shook her head. "All right, that's enough questions."

"Well then, let me go." He half-turned, as if expecting her to let him walk off.

Slightly calmer now, she knew she couldn't kill him but neither could she leave him to prey on others. She reached out to catch his arm with a gauntleted hand. "No, I'm turning you into the authorities." That would be best.

He gaped at her in horror. "There are none, except the Templars, and they'll execute me!"

Morrigan's voice cut in from the side. "That would be foolish. Did you not hear about the bounty? The Templars would be just as likely to turn you and Alistair in as take these bandits into custody."

"We don't have to tell them who we are," Alistair protested.

The witch snorted. "And you think this idiot will hesitate to spill the facts? No, you must kill them now."

Elissa frowned. "I won't kill in cold blood." She felt sick at the very thought.

"I won't let you kill me!" The man's hand went to the small dagger at his waist.

Elissa opened her mouth to respond when a flash of lightning shot past her with a sizzling sound. Slowly, the man toppled over, a large hole burnt through his neck.

In the silence, Elissa stared down at the dead man at her feet. Then she turned slowly towards Morrigan. "What was that about?"

"It was that, or die when the Templars find out who you are." Morrigan seemed surprised at her anger. "And I, for one, don't want to die."

"You killed him in cold blood!" Alistair snapped.

"You will not win this battle against the Blight by being _kind_ and _fluffy_." Morrigan sneered. "Especially now that it appears this Loghain wants you dead!"

"But, cold blooded murder?" Elissa looked back at the body, aware that her legs were shaking slightly.

"I thought you were a practical creature, Elissa." Morrigan's lips thinned. "You are Grey Wardens. Your duty is to stop the Blight. To do whatever you have to. In order to that, you need to survive. If that means someone has to die for you to do your duty, then they have to die."

Right. The Blight. That was the important thing. Not what Loghain had done to Cailan, nor what he'd done to her. Nor this brigand. She and Alistair were the only Grey Wardens left in Ferelden, and it was up to them to stop the Blight. That meant she had no time for softness, for grief, for anger, for compassion, until she was alone in her tent at night. Then she could cry. She squared her shoulders and tightened her stomach muscles. "All right. Search the bodies."

"La…Elissa?" Alistair turned to look at her in disbelief.

"Morrigan is right. We have to do what we have to do. And we won't get far at all without coin and supplies. So search the bodies. They were highwaymen, they have to have gathered something we can use." Elissa crouched next to the bandit leader's body.

"But…it all belongs to someone else…" he said weakly.

"And there is no way to know who owns what," Morrigan retorted. "Take what we can use and leave the rest for the next person to come along."

His lips thinned, and he obeyed with visible reluctance. Ten minutes later, they were moving again, after looting and shoving the bodies under the nearest cart so that it wasn't the first sight seen by the next traveller.

Elissa paused on the edge of the white stone road, looking out over the small village below them.

"La…Elissa?"

She turned towards him, a little surprised. It was the first time he'd spoken outside of necessity and the bandits in five days. "Yes?"

Morrigan sneered. "Oh, finally decided to start a conversation then? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?"

Elissa winced.

"Is my being upset so strange to you?" Alistair demanded, his eyes flashing. "Have you never lost someone close to you? What would you do if your mother died?"

"Before or after I stopped laughing?" Morrigan arched an eyebrow.

Alistair shuddered. "Right. Very creepy. Forget I asked."

Elissa glanced at him sidelong. "You have been very quiet, Alistair."

"I know," he looked pensive. "I've been…thinking."

"That's why it took so long then," the witch interjected.

Alistair scowled. "Oh, I get it. This is the part where we're shocked to discover you've never had a friend your entire life after all."

"I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so," Morrigan snipped.

Elissa counted to ten silently. Was this what it was going to be like for the rest of their 'trip' to Maker-knows-where trying to recruit the armies? Fighting brigands and darkspawn, interspersed with continual fighting between her companions?

Alistair continued, ignoring the witch. "Do you think it's true? That Loghain blames the Wardens for the king's death? And about the bounty?"

Elissa stiffened. _I don't know what to believe. _"It does not seem like the sort of thing Loghain would do," she said slowly, her throat thick. _But, I did not think he would leave the battlefield either. _

"That man would have had no reason to lie," Morrigan inserted.

"But we didn't do it!" Alistair protested angrily. "It was _him_!"

"Who actually did anything has little to do with blame," Elissa rubbed her forehead, feeling a dull ache start in her head.

"Utter bastard," Alistair muttered darkly. He looked up at her with a twisted expression on his face. "So, do you believe us now? That your Loghain betrayed the king and deserted the battle?"

"I have no choice, do I?" Elissa snapped. "What other reason would he have for wanting our deaths!" _Pinning the blame on the Grey Wardens tells us he had no excuse for abandoning Cailan to die, for destroying half of Ferelden's army. And, Maker forgive me, I love him anyway._

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Right. Is there any way to hide that staff of yours, Morrigan? It's a little obvious." That was somewhat of an understatement, she thought, eyeing the long wooden shaft that peeked over Morrigan's head.

"Tis amazing how much will be ignored when a man has a woman's breasts to focus on," was Morrigan's reply.

Elissa snorted. "Is that why you wear the robes you do? But we don't need the Templars in Lothering chasing us in case one of them decides to think with his brain instead of his…other bits."

"I wear my robes because they are comfortable and practical." Morrigan sighed. "And there are spells on my staff to keep people from noticing it."

"Will they work on Templars?"

Morrigan waved her hand. "Of course. T'would be of little use otherwise, no?"

With Morrigan's most obvious mage adornment hidden, Elissa led the way into the village. They passed refugees camped on open fields, a heavy silence lingering over them broken only by the cry of a hungry child. Gritting her teeth, Elissa ignored the sounds and marched on.

As they entered the gates, a man in the heavy metal armour of a full Templar called out, "You there, if you're looking for safe shelter, I'll warn you there's none to be found. Move on if you can. Lothering's lost."

Well that was brilliant news. She sighed to herself. Not that they hadn't planned to keep moving as soon as they could, but she'd been looking forward to one night in a nice bed, without the constant fear of being attacked. They pressed on into the village. More refugees were everything, cringing in shadows and corners.

"Ah, look how they moan and wail and gnash their teeth." Morrigan sneered. "Tis sad to watch how helplessly they scurry about."

"It's just a guess but I'm thinking everyone in Lothering is aware of the approaching darkspawn horde," Alistair retorted.

"Then they should do something about it rather than cringe and hide," Morrigan snapped back.

Alistair seemed about to respond, and thought the better of it. "The Chantry is still running their board. Now that's dedication."

Morrigan scoffed. "Ah yes, let us run errands for the betterment of mankind as well as a few coppers."

Elissa stopped in her tracks. "Actually, that's not a bad idea." And with the board outside, she wouldn't even have to go inside.

Both her companions turned to stare.

"We're going to need money to buy supplies," she pointed out. "And unless we're going to resort to stealing, we need legitimate ways to make money."

"And so you're going to waste time doing jobs for the _Chantry_?" Morrigan snorted.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Elissa's eyes narrowed as Morrigan opened her mouth to answer. "Legal ideas."

Morrigan glared, and then shook her head.

"Well, then." Elissa marched towards the board. A quick scan of the board showed only one job that would suit them. She sighed as she made her way back to her companions. More killing. "There are three groups of bandits who've been roaming north of Lothering. They're offering gold. And no doubt we'd get to keep any loot we find to trade with a merchant."

Morrigan nodded shortly.

Alistair shrugged. Then he glanced over his shoulder at the Chantry. "Do we have time for me to go inside?" he asked. "After everything, I think I need…"

Morrigan sneered.

"Go on." She waved him off, and then turned to Morrigan. "I'm going to find some information."

"I will see if I can find a merchant here who sells the herbs I need." The witch sounded dubious.

"Do you not remember from your visits here?" Elissa asked curiously.

Morrigan shrugged. "Much has changed since I came here last. There used to be a market where we stand now."

"Try not to attract too much attention." The men around them were already taking sidelong looks at Morrigan's low cut shirt.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "These men? They are hardly worth the effort."

"Just don't do anything silly," she warned, before turning and approaching one of the nearby soldiers. Maybe she would be able to find someone who could give her more information over there.

After finding that everyone was too stressed about the oncoming Blight to be willing to talk to her, Elissa returned to the place she'd left her companions. She spotted Morrigan hovering nearby. "You found a merchant?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "There are only two merchants in the village, and one of the idiot Chantry sisters ran one of them out of town just before I arrived. The other is in the tavern on the other side of the river."

Alistair emerged from the Chantry and moved towards them, a frown creasing his forehead. "I met someone from Redcliffe. Ser Donall….he says that Arl Eamon is sick. Very sick. All the knights are out searching for Andraste's ashes."

"Well, this Eamon won't be much use then," Morrigan said.

"I think that is even more reason to go and see what is going on." Alistair looked at her, poorly concealed worry in his eyes. "If nothing else, Arlessa Isolde will be able to tell us more, maybe give us some help."

Elissa tilted her head. "Are you…close to the Arl?" There was no other explanation for the concern he was showing.

He shifted uncomfortably. "I grew up in Redcliffe before I went to the Chantry. The Arl raised me."

The queen's brother raised the king's bastard? Well, she hadn't expected that one. A glance at his face told her he was unwilling to say more. "For now, we should head to the tavern and see if," she grimaced, "they might have a room available. I desperately need a bath that is _not_ in a river."

A little boy was curled up in the corner of the bridge leading across the river. Elissa hesitated, and then stopped beside him. "Are you all right?"

The child, probably about six or seven, uncurled slightly. "Have you seen my mother?"

Elissa swallowed hard. Her thoughts flickered involuntarily to her own mother, of the dream she'd had the night before. "That depends. Who is your mother?"

"She's really tall...and she has red hair. We live on a big farmhold, all of us. Some mean men with swords came and mother told me to run to the village as fast as I could, so I did. She said she would be right behind me, but I've been waiting and waiting and I can't see her."

Elissa closed her eyes. "Do you know where your father is?"

The boy shook his head. "He went with William to the neighbour's yesterday, but he didn't come back."

So no parents at all. Just like her. She took a breath. "I don't think she's coming, child." Her heart wrenched inside her chest. If it had lived, would her child one day have looked up at her with wide blue eyes like this little boy?

He scowled and stamped a foot. "Why not? Why would she leave me here?"

"I don't think she meant to leave you, dear one." Elissa fought to keep her voice steady.

"But she must be coming," the child insisted.

"Go to the chantry, child. Someone will look after you there," she told him. _And you will not even be recruited into the Wardens for it_,she added bitterly.

"I will. But only if I don't find Mother, first." He ran off without a backwards glance.

Shaking her head, Elissa straightened. She found Alistair staring at her. "What?"

Alistair smiled faintly. "It is just odd, I suppose. I've only ever known you as a warrior, and now…"

"And now I'm a woman with maternal instincts?" She pursed her lips. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, no," he said hurriedly. "It's just a bit startling."

Elissa shook her head, and then turned to cross over the bridge.

"Have you given thought to where we will go after this, Elissa?" Morrigan asked.

Elissa frowned. "Why are you asking me? Alistair is the senior Warden." Wouldn't he be taking charge? He needed the time to get over Duncan, but he'd started talking again.

"Because Alistair isn't leading us." Morrigan looked pointedly at her. Elissa flushed slightly and glanced at Alistair.

He shook his head. "Don't look at me."

"So where will we be going?" Morrigan arched an eyebrow.

She bit her lip, thinking. "From Lothering, it would make sense to go Kinloch Hold first. We're already half way there. "

"The mage prison." Morrigan's lips thinned in disgust.

"It's not a prison," Alistair objected. "They go there to learn to control their powers. Untrained mages are dangerous."

"There are other places in the world where one can get training, places where men don't watch you bathe," Morrigan retorted.

Alistair looked horrified. "They don't!"

"How many mages have you spoken to?" Morrigan gave him a sly smile. "My information comes from those who have escaped the prison."

"Enough." Elissa held up her hand. Both glared at each other, but subsided. Elissa led the way towards the tavern, past the blacksmith bent over his anvil and a group of gossiping refugees who didn't even look up as they passed.

"…heard he saw just in time what those Grey Wardens were doing and saved his men. He's a Hero, that's what he is."

"Too bad he couldn't save King Cailan. Blast those Grey Wardens. They deserved what they got and more." The respondent spat on the ground.

Elissa gritted her teeth. She clamped one hand on Alistair's forearm to hold him back, and the other on Duke's collar. She gave both a warning look. The door was heavy, as she pushed it open, but well-oiled so it didn't squeak. Stepping inside, she took a glance around. The split floor building was crowded, with every table filled. It didn't look like there was going to be a room available for the night.

"Well," a baritone voice said, cutting through the noise and bringing silence to the entire room. "Look what we have here, men. I think we've just been blessed." One of the lutes sang out a note that was cut short as silence fell in the tavern.

Elissa froze, her eyes snapping across the room to fix on five men moving towards them. Each wore the uniform armour of the royal army.

"Uh-oh," Alistair muttered. "Loghain's men. This can't be good."

"Didn't we spend all morning asking about a woman by this very description?" The man to the left looked at his commander. "And everyone said they hadn't seen her."

"It seems we were lied to." The commander looked around at the silent tavern with a threatening look.

Elissa swore silently. Behind her, she felt the tension in her companions as they prepared for battle. She opened her mouth to respond, slowly shifting her own weight to be able to grab for her sword.

"Gentleman," a new, lilting female voice interrupted. A Chantry priestess with red hair cut in a chin-length bob approached from the other side of the tavern, a soft smile on her lips. "Surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."

The commander didn't bother taking his eyes off them. "They're more than that. Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them."

Elissa held up her hand. "I don't need your help, Sister. Please stand back." She was not going to be responsible for the death of a priestess.

The other woman glanced at her. "_You_ don't need my protection. But these men will blindly follow their master's command even unto death."

Elissa raised an eyebrow. This woman they'd never met thought that they could take on five trained soldiers? It was true, but it was an interesting position for her to take.

"I am not the blind one!" the commander snarled. "I served at Ostagar, where the Teyrn saved us from the Grey Wardens treachery. I serve him gladly."

"Treachery?" Alistair demanded. "We ne-".

"Enough talk," the soldier cut him off. "Will you come quietly, Warden?"

Elissa stared at him incredulously. Come quietly? To her death? "I think not."

"Take the Warden into custody. He wants her alive. Kill the sister and anyone else that gets in your way." There was the scrape of metal on metal as they drew weapons.

"Right. Let's make this quick," the soldier on the left agreed.

Elissa jerked her sword free from its sheath and slung her shield onto her left arm. They had instructions to take her alive? A burst of hope sprung within her. Maybe he didn't want her dead then. After all, what point would there be in bringing her in alive if he was just going to kill her? Unless he wanted her to die a traitor's death. She swallowed.

"Morrigan, on the right. Alistair, on the left. Duke, with me." Without waiting for a response Elissa charged, catching the first swing of the commander's two-handed blade on her shield. She staggered, and then slashed forward. Magic flared around them, and Elissa glimpsed a man stumbling back nearby. There was a growing itch at the back of her head, but she didn't dare pay it any attention. Duke lunged forward, timing his attack with Elissa's own shield pummel. Elissa dodged the counter-attack by a hair, and then barely avoided a slash from another soldier who decided to interfere. Reversing her sword in her hand she thrust behind her, skewering the second soldier. Then she ducked another blow from the commander and jerked her blade loose to fight him again.

The Chantry sister was suddenly there, her long dagger slashing through the air to press up against the commander's throat. He froze, the sword tumbling from his hands. "All right you've won. We surrender."

The Sister kicked the heavy blade away, and then stepped back slightly, ignoring the blood splattered on her red and gold Chantry robes. Her eyes were cold as she stared down at the warrior, and Elissa shivered slightly. "Good. They've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting, now."

Elissa straightened, breathing heavily. A quick glance around showed them to be the centre of attention in the room, with the other customers huddled against the walls to avoid the fight. Four bodies on the wooden floors indicated that the other soldiers were dead. A pang of regret filled her.

Gritting her teeth, she stepped up close to the commander. "What were your orders? Who gave them to you?"

"Teyrn Loghain gave us a description of you and told us if we found you, to take you and any other Wardens into custody," he babbled. "He said you'd come quietly!"

Loghain thought she'd come quietly? Maybe she would have, even after Cailan's death, if he hadn't put a bounty on her head. But now, they would never know. Even for him, she wasn't going to risk her death without knowing precisely what he wanted her for. She straightened her shoulders. "I will let you go free. But only to take a message to Loghain."

"W-what do you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him…Elissa Cousland does not shirk her duty to the Wardens, and to this kingdom. As long as he seeks the death of the Grey Wardens, I won't come quietly." She paused. "And when I next meet him, he can explain to me why he killed Cailan!"

He swallowed. "I'll tell him." His eyes darted between the members of the group. "Right away. Now. Thank you!" He fled, the door swinging shut heavily behind her. Elissa scanned the room immediately, looking to see if someone was going to get…upset with the apostate mage running around. With a murmur and seeing that the excitement was over, the tavern's customers turned away. Apparently not then. The tavern owner nodded to her, and then began to direct several large burly men to drag the dead bodies away. Elissa sheathed her blade and then rubbed her forehead with a blood splattered, gauntleted hand.

"I have a table." The Sister stepped forward, gesturing towards a wooden table on the left. Her eyes were warm now, with no trace of the earlier iciness that had so startled Elissa.

Elissa eyed her for a moment, before nodding. "Thank you." She followed the woman to the table and sank down onto the wooden bench with a relieved sigh. She tangled her fingers in Duke's fur, taking comfort in the warmth. She raised her other hand, signalling the barmaid.

Alistair slid onto the bench opposite her and gave her a tired smile. "It's not yet mid-day, and I already want to go to sleep," he complained. "I wonder why they were looking for you in particular."

She shrugged. _Because I am Loghain's betrothed_. "Did you want them to look for you too?"

"No," Alistair said hastily. "I just thought it was curious."

Elissa shrugged again. "My name, perhaps?"

The Sister cleared her throat. "I apologise for interfering but I couldn't just sit by and not help."

Elissa raised her eyebrow. "So I see." She paused. "Where does a Sister learn to fight like that?"

The woman laughed. "I wasn't born in the Chantry you know. Many of us had more colourful lives before we joined the Chantry."

Elissa noticed that she didn't answer the question. "Well, thank you for your help," she said politely.

"It was no problem. Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was."

Was? "I am Elissa. A pleasure."

Leliana stepped closer. "You are the leader, yes?"

"I suppose I am," Elissa said warily.

"Those men said you're a Grey Warden. You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do?"

Elissa didn't answer.

The redhead was undeterred. "I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along."

Elissa's eyes widened, and it took her a moment to find her tongue. "What?"

"I'm coming along with you," she repeated.

Elissa's tongue stumbled over itself for a moment. "W…Why are you so eager to come with me?" What idiot wanted to join a group where two out of three had a price on their head, and the other was clearly an apostate mage?

"The Maker told me to."

Elissa blinked. "Can you…elaborate?" Was this woman mad? Or insane?

"I-I know that sounds…absolutely insane," she acknowledged. "But it's true I had a dream, a vision."

"More crazy?" Alistair asked. "I thought we were all full up."

Elissa eyed her. "What happened in this…vision of yours? Why do you think the Maker wants you to come with us?" She'd met people who claimed to have visions before, but few would admit it quite like this woman did.

Leliana shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know how to explain, but I had a dream. In it was an impenetrable darkness…it was so dense, so real…and there was a noise, a terrible, ungodly noise…I stood on a peak and watched as the darkness consumed everything…and when the storm swallowed the last of the sun's light, I…I fell, and the darkness drew me in…"

Morrigan snorted.

Elissa ignored the witch. "So it's just a dream. Why say it's a vision?"

"I have had dreams." Leliana shook her head. "This was…different, somehow. When I woke, I went to the Chantry's gardens, as I always do. But that day, the rosebush in the corner had flowered... Everyone _knew_ that rosebush was dead. It was grey and twisted and gnarled – the ugliest thing you ever saw, but there it was – a single beautiful rose. It was as though the Maker had stretched out His hand to say: 'Even in the midst of all this darkness, there is hope and beauty. Have faith.'"

"And this made you want to help me?" Elissa eyed her in disbelief.

"In my dream I fell, or…or maybe I jumped…I'd do anything to end the Blight.I know that we can do it. There are so many beautiful things in the Maker's world. How can I sit by while the Blight devours …everything?"

"The Chantry says the Maker has left us." Alistair leaned forward.

Leliana shook her head again. "He is still here. I hear Him in the wind and the waves, I feel Him in the sunlight that warms my skin. I know what the Chantry says about the Maker, and what should I believe? What is in my heart or what others tell me?"

Elissa glanced hurriedly at the other priestesses she'd seen earlier, but none of them seemed to be close enough to overhear.

Leliana gestured around. "Look at the people here. They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos…will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker's work. Let me help!"

She seemed earnest enough, Elissa allowed. But... "I need more than prayers, I'm afraid." Prayers wouldn't get her very far against darkspawn and bandits, and now apparently they'd have to dodge Loghain's people as well.

"I can fight," Leliana protested. "I can do more than fight. As I said, I was not always a lay sister. I put aside that life when I came here, but now…if it is the Maker's will, I will take it up again. Gladly. Please let me help you."

"What were you before?" Elissa's eyes narrowed. A warrior of some kind, to judge by her confidence with a blade.

Leliana shrugged casually. "Nothing of particular note. I travelled a lot though, and that was how I learned to fight."

A secret she didn't want to talk about then. But she supposed that they all had secrets, and Leliana's was hardly likely to be something as massive as the secret Elissa herself was hiding. _Maker damn it, Loghain._ She glanced at her companions.

Alistair added, "Her plea seems wholehearted. And even though she seems a little…strange, she does have some skill." Elissa glanced at the blood stained floor currently being scrubbed by an elven servant.

Morrigan looked unimpressed. "You will do as you like, I imagine, regardless of what I say."

Elissa turned back to Leliana. They could always use another fighter. And Leliana moved with the same sort of feline grace that Eleanor Cousland had, suggesting that she was built for stealth and speed rather than the heavy hitting that both Alistair and Elissa were. With a sigh, she conceded. They already had a Witch of the Wilds, the bastard heir to the throne, and the last scion of the Couslands in this motley group, why not add a madwoman? "Very well. I will not turn away help when it is offered."

Morrigan snorted. "Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought."

Leliana smiled brightly. "Thank you! I appreciate being given this chance. I will not let you down."

Elissa sighed. "Right. Morrigan, let's find that merchant of yours. Leliana, if you're travelling with us, do you need anything?"

"No. I have some things at the Chantry from my old life," Leliana answered. She hesitated. "Actually, if I am to be fighting darkspawn, a sword would be useful if one could be found. I have daggers and a bow, but no sword."

Elissa nodded briskly. "If you could fetch your belongings back here? When you return we'll see if we can find you a sword." They had picked up quite a few of decent quality in Ostagar and in the skirmishes since then. If not, perhaps she could trade one from the blacksmith they'd seen outside. "Oh, is there somewhere we can buy horses here? It would be faster than travelling on foot." They might be able to afford a couple, and Morrigan could…travel in another form if necessary.

Leliana shook her head. "The only horses are at the Bann's keep, and he's taken his men north."

"We could steal them?" Morrigan suggested.

"No." Elissa shot that idea down quickly. "No stealing. We'll just have to go on foot."

Morrigan harrumphed, her disapproval plain.

"I'll just go and get my things." As Leliana disappeared out the door, Elissa got up. She approached the tavern keeper behind the bar.

He eyed her suspiciously. "You're going to make more trouble? We've about all we can stand in Lothering now."

"I'm sorry about the mess…"

He waved it off. "They had it coming and they were trouble enough themselves. As long as you don't start more, I won't get excited. Right then. Name's Danal. Is there something I can get you?"

"I need some information, if you have time."

He inclined his head. "If you make it worth my while."

She sighed inwardly, but laid a silver on the bar bench. "Who were those men I fought exactly?

The coin disappeared. "When Teyrn Loghain marched by, he left those fellows behind to look for Grey Wardens. I suppose that's true?"

She pinned him with her gaze. "You'll keep that to yourself."

He raised his hands. "I have no quarrel with you, whatever the Teyrn says. My grandfather served with the Wardens. Your secret is safe with me."

"Have you heard any recent news?"

"Other than the darkspawn horde bearing down on us? Teyrn Loghain has been declared the new Regent, what with his daughter being the Queen. There are even rumours he'll be King." He sounded pleased.

Her blood thundered in her ears. Loghain was declaring himself king? Then this was a power grab. He had killed Cailan to gain access to the throne. _Loghain, what have you done?_ She swallowed. "I-Is there anything else?"

"Some folks aren't happy with the Teyrn being appointed Regent. There are rumours he had something to do with the king's death." He laughed. "Isn't that the most ridiculous thing you ever heard? The darkspawn killed him, sure enough. If the Hero of River Dane couldn't save the king from that end, nobody could. Thank the Maker we didn't lose Teyrn Loghain at Ostagar. He pulled his men out just in time, so it's said. Without him, we'd be lost."

That was it then. Loghain had definitely withdrawn. It hadn't been someone else who gave that order. It had been Loghain. She couldn't afford to fall apart though, not here and not now. "Thank you."

He grinned at her. "No problem."

She returned to the table, her thoughts troubled, to wait for Leliana's return. _Loghain, why?_


	9. Dreaming In The Deep

Title: Forged In Fire  
>Rating: M (for violence and language)<br>Warnings: none Summary: Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.  
>Disclaimer + Notes: Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers lilpumpkingirl and analect for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things. They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative or positive) are always welcome, and I do respond to each of them individually.<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter 9 – Dreaming the Deeps<p>

_Grey stones underfoot,_

_The road winds twixt tree and valley,_

_Ever curving and changing_

_And wearing down the boot_

_Of the weary man who walks._

∞ 'The Traveller' by Free Marches merchant Janer Midas

Twenty-four hours, three groups of dead bandits, and the finding of two lost cows later, Elissa's purse was substantially lighter as they left the tavern for the last time. Morrigan had had a long list of items she needed for her potions, and the merchant had taken advantage of the opportunity to charge outrageous prices. But they couldn't afford not to buy the various distillation agents and flasks Morrigan needed, even if they had agreed to search for the herbs in the wild. Then, Elissa had added mabari crunch for Duke, more bandages and an assortment of dried food. At least they had the small income from the Chantry board and she had managed to sell, at a small profit, various weapons and odds and ends they'd picked up and looted along the way.

Leliana cleared her throat. "There is a Qunari who was captured by the Templars and is being held just outside the town."

Elissa cast a glance at Leliana, puzzled. "And?"

"He would be a strong addition to our group," she suggested.

"We're not picking up every stray who crosses our path, I hope," Morrigan said dryly.

"The smaller in number we are, the easier it'll be to avoid detection," Elissa said. And they had plenty of people to be avoiding now. Not only the darkspawn, who were already able to sense both her and Alistair, but Loghain's people as well.

"But we are fighting the darkspawn," Leliana insisted. "We will need all the help we can get, no?"

"All the help in Thedas won't be any good if we get caught," Morrigan retorted.

"Besides, you said he was captured by the Templars," Elissa pointed out. "What did he do?"

"The Revered Mother says he slaughtered an entire family."

Elissa stopped, and turned to stare at her in disbelief. "An entire family?"

_Like mine_.

"Yes."

"And you want us to take him with us?" Elissa's voice rose in pitch.

"He is a strong fighter," Leliana repeated. "And with us, perhaps he can do some good to atone for his crimes. Otherwise, he will simply be left to die." She gestured up ahead, where a large cage dangled. Inside it, an enormous muscled man stood in absolute stillness.

"He's a murderer, a criminal." Alistair screwed his nose up.

"And Loghain calls you a criminal too," Morrigan retorted, watching the prisoner, "and accuses you of murdering the King. This is a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn. If you do not have a use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy's sake alone."

Elissa shook her head firmly, and fought to keep her voice steady, "I'm not going to harbour, or release, someone who murders innocents."

_I wouldn't be able to look at him without seeing Oren and all of Castle Cousland. _

"To be left here to starve, or to be taken by the darkspawn. No-one deserves that, not even a murderer," Leliana said sadly.

Elissa gritted her teeth. "The family he slaughtered did not deserve their deaths either."

"Two wrongs do not make a right."

Elissa nodded grudgingly. "And yet, there are some crimes I cannot forgive. Murdering families is one of them. I will not interfere with the Chantry's justice."

"The Chantry's justice." Morrigan sneered. "There is no such thing!"

Leliana looked disappointed. "May I ask why?"

"…my family was murdered last month," Elissa said flatly.

Leliana blanched, and fell silent.

Morrigan sniffed disapprovingly. "Sentimentality."

Elissa whirled on her. "Yes. But also practicality. If I'm going to see the dead faces of my family every time I so much as look at my travelling companion, we would hardly get very far." She glared. "Besides, with you being an apostate, I thought you'd want fewer reasons for the Chantry to watch us rather than more! And if I conscripted a prisoner of theirs, they'd be on us in a heartbeat."

"If you will not bring him with us, will you not release him?" Leliana pressed.

Elissa eyed her. "I wouldn't have thought a Chantry sister would want a murderer released."

"If he regrets it, he should be allowed to atone for it. And…I don't think anyone should be left like that, trapped for the darkspawn." Leliana shook her head. "No crime is worth that punishment."

No? Elissa could think of someone she'd dearly like to give to the darkspawn. In fact, she'd chop Howe up and feed him piece by piece if necessary. "We're not taking him. Or releasing him. He murdered those people, and it's not my place to forgive them for it.

Spinning on her heel, Elissa led the way out of the wooden gates without another word. She paused for a moment, recalling the image of the map that she'd memorized the night before and was currently tucked away in her backpack. Then she struck right across the grass towards the highway that would lead them north-west towards the Circle of Magi.

They walked in silence across uneven ground for several long minutes. A gentle breeze kissed her skin as it funnelled between the hills rising on either side of them, and she could faintly hear the hum of bees hovering over the wild flowers growing along the path. Slowly, Elissa felt her anger draining, to be replaced by guilt. She shouldn't have snapped at either Leliana or Morrigan.

Leliana broke the silence, "Morrigan?"

"Yes?" the witch sighed.

"They say your mother is Flemeth, a witch of the Korcari Wilds," Leliana began.

Elissa winced.

"They also say that washing your feet in winter makes you catch cold in the head but we all know that isn't true," Morrigan retorted sharply. Then she seemed to sigh, and relent, "but sometimes they are right and they are right in this."

"You know the stories about-"

"Of course," Morrigan sneered. "You think my mother would let me go without telling me all the stories of her youth?"

"My mother told me stories too," Leliana said. "She was the one who kindled my love of the old tales and legends."

Morrigan snorted. "_My_ mother's stories curdled my blood and haunted my dreams. No little girl wants to hear about the Wilder men her mother took to her bed, using them till they were spent, and then killing them. No little girl wants to be told that this is also expected of her, once she comes of age."

Elissa shuddered, abruptly feeling very sorry for the little girl Morrigan had once been.

Leliana was silent for a long moment, clearly unsure what to say. "I…uh…I see."

"No," Morrigan said dryly. "You don't. You really don't."

"Up ahead," Alistair said abruptly, his voice carrying to all of them.

Elissa's hand closed on the back of Duke's collar as she turned back towards the front. A group of ragged-looking men blocked their path forward, each bearing a weapon of some sort.

"Hello," she kept her voice steady as she stopped a short distance away.

There was some muttering, and then a black-haired man in thread worn clothes came forward, a look of apprehension on his face. "We done heard what was said. You're a Warden."

_Uh oh_.

"This is getting old," Elissa muttered.

"I don't know if you killed King Cailan, and Maker forgive me, I don't care. But that bounty on your head could fill a lot of hungry bellies," the man growled.

"You'd need to be alive to claim that reward," Elissa pointed out calmly. "As you said, we're Grey Wardens. Do you really want to challenge us?" She really didn't want to kill these men, who hadn't done anything wrong.

"There are only four of you," the leader said firmly. "And ten of us."

"We killed the bandits yesterday," Alistair added.

There was shifting among the group, but no-one broke and ran. The leader narrowed blue eyes at them, and adjusted his grip on the mace in his hands. "Attack."

_Shit_. Elissa whipped her blade out of its sheath. Behind her, Leliana's voice soared in song. After a moment of pure astonishment, Elissa charged to meet the first blow. Her shield crashed into her opponent, knocking him off his feet. As she whirled to land another blow, she realised that she wasn't quite as tired after that move as normal. Either she had gotten stronger since yesterday evening, or something about Leliana's song was helping.

A heavy blade came down on her back with a clang, shoving her forward and knocking the breath out of her but not rending through the armour. Sliding to the side, she spun to face her next attacker, only to find herself surrounded on all sides. She swore silently, readjusting her grip on her blade as she tried to decide who to attack first. No matter which way she went, the others would fall on her and she'd be down in a matter of moments. And despite the strength of her armour, it was not the heavy armour that could keep her alive under the hacking of swords and blades.

Abruptly, the air felt heavy around her. An almost visible ripple passed through, and the men around her reeled, as though stunned. A glance over her shoulder showed Morrigan's delighted smirk, and Elissa couldn't help but respond with her own grin. A crack of the flat of her blade against the nearest unhelmeted head knocked him out without killing him. Another man sprouted two arrows in the shoulder before Duke leaped upon him, and then he lay still on the dew-wet ground.

The battle went very quickly after that, and it was only a few minutes later that she was staring down at the unconscious and dead bodies of the starving refugees.

"Such a waste," Leliana murmured as she stepped up to Elissa's side.

"I don't understand," Elissa said quietly. "They had to have known they couldn't win against us." Her mouth twisted. "Especially if what Loghain said was true."

"Hunger and desperation leads men to do things they would not otherwise dare," Leliana answered.

Elissa sighed and shook her head. Then she glanced to where Morrigan was already going through pockets.

The witch straightened with an irritated expression. "Nothing of value."

"Unsurprising," Alistair retorted. "These are poor, hungry men."

Elissa rolled her eyes. The ex-Templar was still struggling to accept the idea of 'stealing' from the dead bodies they either came across or caused. "Let's keep moving."

She set off towards the white stone highway in the distance.

"Elissa?" Alistair spoke quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Earlier," he hesitated, "you said…you said your family was murdered."

Her throat tightened. "Yes."

"I don't understand," he looked at her in confusion. "You are the daughter of Teyrn Cousland."

She ignored the sharp intake of breath behind her from Leliana, and smiled tightly. "I _was_ the daughter of Teyrn Cousland." She took a breath. "All of Castle Cousland except me, and my brother who was lost in the Wilds, was slaughtered by Arl Howe."

Alistair's jaw dropped. "But…but…" He gathered his thoughts. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." She hesitated, recalling the conversation at the gates of Lothering the day before, and then ploughed ahead with a sigh. "D-do you want to talk about Duncan?"

He paled slightly. "You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him very long."

"He was like a father to you," she countered. "I understand." _Even if I don't agree_.

He shook his head. "I should have handled this better. Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen. Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn't have lost it like that, not with so much riding on us, and the Blight and…and everything. I'm sorry."

She shifted awkwardly, a sliver of guilt lodging itself in her stomach. He was taking the death of Duncan and all the other Wardens far better than she had taken her family's death, and here he was, apologizing?

"There's no need to apologize."

"I'd… like to have a proper funeral for him." He looked at her hopefully. "Maybe once this is all done, if we're still alive. I don't think he had any family to speak of."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," she agreed.

"I think he came from Highever, or so he said." Alistair wasn't looking at her so hopefully he missed the stunned expression on her face. "Maybe I'll go up there sometime, see about putting something up in his honour. I don't know…" He trailed off, his eyes distant.

She ignored the piercing pain in her heart. "I'm sure he'd like that."

He offered her a small smile, and then looked away.

A hand touched her shoulder and Elissa turned to see Leliana standing just behind her shoulder. "I have a suggestion given that you seem to get recognised quite a lot."

"Yes, well, I've learnt my lesson." Elissa sighed. "I won't be announcing my identity anymore."

"But those soldiers in the tavern recognised you by your appearance. Is it possible that others might also be asked to look for you?"

Her stomach sunk. "Yes."

Leliana nodded cheerily. "They will be finding you by description, yes? Well, as I said, I have a suggestion. I have some bits and pieces with me that we could use to help disguise you."

"Like what?" Elissa asked warily.

"There are herbs and mixes that dye the hair," Leliana touched the messy bun at the back of Elissa's head.

"Dye my hair?" Elissa echoed, stunned. It was not unheard of, of course. A couple of particularly vain noblewomen of her acquaintance dyed their hair, but it was an Orlesian tradition, not a Ferelden one. It was certainly not something she'd ever considered, being quite happy with the medium-brown hair she'd inherited from her father.

"Mmm," Leliana nodded eagerly. "Your hair is a bit dark for most dyes, but we could turn it into a lighter brown, or even a dark red? And perhaps a different hairstyle? You won't be completely unrecognisable, but it'll be harder for someone going by a description to recognise you."

"I don't know," she said dubiously.

"Just try it," the other woman coaxed. "It'll wash out eventually if you don't like it. And with the Teyrn's people looking for you…"

Elissa sighed, and relented. "All right."

Leliana's eyes sparkled with pleasure and she clapped her hands. "Ooh, this will be so much fun! There are so many styles for us to try. And make-up perhaps? That would change your face shape too!"

Elissa eyed her in disbelief. "What in Thedas would someone like _you_ be doing in a Chantry?"

"What do you mean someone like me?" Leliana's brow furrowed.

The Warden waved a gauntleted hand. "This! Your interest in hair, make-up, fashion! Not exactly the Chantry type, is it? Nor do they teach you to fight in a cloister, do they?"

"Did you think I was always a cloistered sister?" Leliana laughed. "The Chantry provides succour for all who need it, and I chose to stay and become affirmed."

Elissa's eyes narrowed. "What did you do before that?"

"I was a travelling minstrel, in Orlais," the other explained. She smiled wistfully. "Tales and songs were my life. I performed, and they rewarded me with applause and coin." Her expression shifted suddenly, becoming nervous. "As for my fighting skills, one picks up many skills on the road, yes? Yes, of course." She coughed. "Let's move on."

Elissa knelt on the hard, dry ground, lashing together the wooden poles that formed the frame of the last of the tents. The warmth of the late-afternoon sun caressed her cheeks where it peeked through the green leaves above her head, and the sound of chirping birds drifted down from the treetops. Her fingertips, lightly calloused from drawing back the bowstring again and again while hunting on their way to Lothering, caught roughly on the rope. She winced. Leliana dropped down beside her, and soft, slender fingers deftly twisted the rope, tying the final knots. Together, they stood and draped the light brown water-proofed hide over the poles.

"What else is there to do?" the minstrel asked.

Elissa glanced around. The tents were up, Alistair was busy piling sticks and branches into the hole he'd dug for the campfire and Leliana had already dug the latrines. "Only dinner."

"Do you want fresh meat tonight?" Morrigan's voice came from behind them. They had dried meat, bought in Lothering before their departure the day before, but it was never as good as fresh.

Alistair's head popped up. "Yes, please!"

Elissa then turned towards the witch, who stood with hands on her hips. "That would be good. Do you want me to come with you?" She was tired from the day's march, but if they needed meat…

"You are tired. You will just slow me down." Morrigan waved a hand dismissively.

"All right."

"She's going alone?" Leliana frowned. "Is that safe?"

Elissa hid her smile, waiting, even as she tensed. _Three. Two. One._ A rush of magic filled the clearing and a shiver ran down her spine.

Right on time, Leliana shrieked. Where Morrigan had been standing was now a sleek grey wolf. It bared long teeth in a grin. The yellow eyes gleamed with amusement as they met Elissa's own. Every time Morrigan used magic, Elissa couldn't help the instinctive shudder. Her memories were far too old and ingrained to be forgotten in a week. But the swamp witch's casual use of magic had meant she learnt not to startle every time she felt the tingle. And in battle, Morrigan's skills had already proven invaluable.

Leliana's hand was pressed to her mouth as she stared at the animal. "I-" She cleared her throat and tried again. "I didn't know mages could do that."

"Most of them can't." Alistair appeared beside her, his expression disapproving. "Morrigan is an apostate though. Her mother taught her strange magics. And she likes frightening people." He crossed his arms awkwardly in his armour, and glared.

The wolf flicked its tail at them, and then disappeared into the green undergrowth. Not even a leaf rustled to reveal her passage.

Leliana stared after her for a moment, and then shook herself. She turned back towards the others. "She takes the form of animals? All animals?"

Elissa shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I've seen her take the form of an owl as well, but I don't know if she can become others. Are you done, Alistair?"

The ex-Templar nodded, still eyeing the place Morrigan had disappeared warily. "She shouldn't be doing that."

"I know you don't like magic-" Elissa began.

"I don't have anything against mages," Alistair interrupted. "It's one of the reasons I was eager to get away from the Templars. But I don't trust Morrigan."

"I'm sure she's a nice enough girl." Leliana smiled brightly. "Maybe she's just not used to people."

Alistair snorted. "She's not used to people, all right. But no, she's not a nice girl. She's mean and cruel, and makes fun of me!"

Elissa bit her lip to keep from laughing. It wasn't very nice of her to laugh, since Morrigan hadn't let up on Alistair since they met. But, Alistair did react to it and she could see why Morrigan delighted in taunting him.

"Poor dear." Leliana patted him on the back. Then she glanced at Elissa. "I saw a river back that way. I have the herbs for the hair dye in my bag."

Elissa swallowed. "Right. Yes. Okay."

Leliana beamed. "Wait a moment." She hurried to the fire, and quickly set a tin pot to boil water from her water-skin. Then she scuttled off to her tent.

"You're really going to dye your hair?" Alistair stared at his fellow Grey Warden.

Elissa shrugged half-heartedly. "I don't like the idea, but, if I'm going to get us in trouble because I'm recognisable..."

He shook his head. "Better you than me."

She ignored him. "Light the campfire, please. And if Morrigan gets back before we do, can you ask her to start on dinner?"

He grimaced. "How do we know she won't poison us?"

"Because she's cooked dinner three times already and we're still alive?" Elissa suggested. He scowled.

Leliana crawled out of the tent, armed with a number of bottles filled with herbs and liquids. She picked up the pot of almost boiling water, and tipped it into another container she carried. "Let's go!"

Elissa squared her shoulders and followed their newest companion into the woods. It didn't take them very long to reach the river Leliana had seen. It was wide enough to be difficult to jump, and looked deep enough to stand in. Eddies slowly swirled down the stream, rippling and bubbling as it curled off into the trees. There was a soft chirp, and then a blue-grey bird fluttered across the clearing.

Leliana crouched on the bank, tipping the contents of various bottles into the hot water. "These have magic added to make them more effective than the purely natural herbs. Let's see if we can lighten your hair first, and then turn it red." She tipped a final bottle into the concoction. "It'll be easier if you strip."

"What?" Elissa gaped at her.

"Strip," Leliana repeated. "Otherwise, you might get dye on your clothes."

"I…I…I've never…" Elissa stammered, turning red.

Leliana glanced up. Comprehension dawned. "Oh. But, how have you been travelling with Alistair and Morrigan so far then?"

"I've always bathed alone," Elissa said stiffly. "Either Alistair or Morrigan has been in earshot, but not near enough to…see."

"That's hardly safe." Leliana shook her head. "In any case, it won't work now. Not unless you want to get dye all over your armour, and I can tell you, it's very difficult to out of the cracks and grooves. So come on, off with the armour and clothes. There's no room for modesty with a travelling group like ours." She grinned. "I promise I won't jump you." Despite her smile, her eyes were wary, waiting for a reaction.

Elissa blushed hard and said nothing. Same sex relationships were not unknown, but few people would admit it to the youngest daughter of the Couslands. That wasn't to say she didn't…hadn't known a few couples in Highever, but no-one had ever made such a comment to her. Slowly, she began to peel first her armour and then her clothes off.

Unwilling to be naked around the other woman, she quickly headed into the water. The river water was a cool shock to her system when she jumped in. The clear liquid did little to actually conceal her, but it helped psychologically, at least.

"Here we go." Leliana moved to kneel on the river bank. "Come here, with your back to me."

Elissa obeyed, and the older woman began to coat her hair in whatever it was that she'd concocted. "You're sure you know what you're doing? This isn't going to make all my hair fall out, right?"

"That would certainly make you unrecognisable, wouldn't it?" Leliana laughed. "But no, it won't. And yes, I know what I'm doing. I've done this hundreds of times before in Orlais." She paused. "Have you been to Orlais?"

"Yes. My f-father used to go there on business quite often, and we sometimes went with him." Elissa closed her eyes. "When did you come to Ferelden? Your accent is still quite Orlesian."

"It has only been a few years."

"Why did you come?"

"I felt like a change of scenery."

"Do you miss it? If I had to leave Ferelden, I think I'd miss it." The dogs, the people, everything that was familiar.

"I miss the shopping," Leliana sounded wistful. "There are such gorgeous dresses. And the shoes!"

"Do you not find them a little…extravagant?" Elissa thought of the Orlesian dresses she'd seen in the markets there. Feathers, fur and sparkling jewels were the order of the day there. Her tastes ran much simpler, more to the Ferelden style.

"Of course! But that is half the fun."

There were a few moments of silence, broken only by the sound of water over stones and the chirping of the birds.

"You…like women, then?" Elissa ventured.

Leliana's fingers in her hair stilled. "Sometimes. Not always. Does that bother you?"

Elissa deciphered that. "No."

"But?"

"You don't…like me, do you?" Even as she voiced it, Elissa winced. That was an insensitive thing to say.

Leliana laughed, and the fingers resumed their movements. "Like that, no. But as a friend and a travelling companion, you seem fine so far."

Elissa turned a deep red. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be embarrassed. Everyone asks that. Besides, now that I have done your hair, we are as sisters."

Elissa's eyes snapped open. "Sisters?"

Leliana grinned. "Only best friends and sisters do each other's hair."

"We have only known each other for two days," Elissa protested.

"Have you never met someone and known instantly that you will be the best of friends?" Leliana smiled. "I knew it as soon as we met."

Elissa shook her head, nearly dislodging the hands in her hair. "You are a very strange woman, Leliana."

"I know."

_She was above a bridge over an enormous chasm. Dry, burning heat blasted her face, ripping at the skin like sandpaper. Below her, the deep chasm was filled with a teeming, seething mass of shadowy figures. Leather and metal boots scraped against the stone. Torch fire glinted off sharp-edged blades and armour, and flickered off the walls, revealing the ugly purple slime clinging to the stained stone. A dozen supporting pillars that once would have born intricate etchings were now pitted and rough as though sprayed with acid._

_An inhuman shriek pierced the air, and a giant wing swept beneath her. Her lungs burned and her knees buckled as she struggled to remain conscious against a heavy mental presence leaning against her mind, nearly crushing her beneath its weight. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain conscious through sheer willpower. It was only with great effort that she managed to focus her eyes again. The Archdemon's neck arched forward, protected by hundreds of scales, each one larger than her hand. In the dim light, each dark scale gleamed like a precious jewel. _

_The monstrous jaw opened wide and a blast, not of fire but of lightning, billowed downwards. It felt like she'd just stepped into the heart of a furnace as the backwash of heat flooded over her. The bright light momentarily lit the faces of the humanoid figures in the chasm below, revealing mottled black and grey flesh. Beneath helmets cobbled together from pieces of dwarven armour, each pair of lips were drawn back in a horrible rictus of a grin. Each sharp, pointed tooth was stained dark yellow. _

_Elissa stared down at the army gathered beneath her in horror. There were thousands, tens of thousands, of the creatures down there. And they were all bund to the will of the monster atop of the bridge._

_The Archdemon screamed again. An answering roar rose from the horde. Elissa cringed. Baleful black slitted eyes scanned the crowd. A resounding shriek was followed by a screech, and then punctuated by a blast of fire. For the first time, the Archdemon's scream changed in pitch, dropping down to almost a growl. Or perhaps Elissa's ears had finally managed to adjust enough for her to follow it. However it happened, she could hear the lilting changes in the dragon's roar._

_Abruptly, the head swung towards her. Wings extended for balance, the Archdemon hissed at her. Thick strings of saliva slid through her insubstantial body and the wind buffeted at her. And beneath the grating noise, a single word reverberated in her mind: Warden._

Her eyes snapped open and she choked off the scream escaping her lips. She lay staring up at the roof of the canvas tent, her breath coming in great gasps and her heart threatening to pound its way out of her chest.

It was just a dream. She calmed herself. After a moment of trembling in her bedroll hard enough that she could feel her teeth chatter, Elissa turned to wrap her arms around Duke. She buried her head in the long golden fur and his heavy weight against her side was a reassuring, solid presence. The mabari shifted in his sleep, nuzzling closer to her. As her breathing slowly calmed, the tension in her muscles drained away but she couldn't fall back asleep. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the Archdemon. Shivering now in the cool night air, she crawled out of the tent.

The night sky was still dark; it was probably still a few hours till dawn. She stared up at the sky. Once it had been full of shining stars, but now only a handful were still visible.

"Bad dreams, huh?"

Elissa startled. Then she turned to look across the merrily crackling fire at Alistair. The blond man, still in full armour, was crouched by the flames, poking at it with a stick. A pensive expression was on his face.

"It seemed so real," she admitted, with a shudder. She sank down on the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"Well, it is real." He paused. "Sort of. You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear them. That's what your dream was. Hearing them. The arch demon, it…'talks' to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That's how we know this is a Blight."

She could still hear the dragon's whisper in her mind, and a chill ran up her spine. Gritting her teeth, she dragged her mind back onto the topic. "We hear it talking to darkspawn? So we'll know its plans?"

"No." Alistair frowned quizzically. "Some of the older Wardens say they can understand the Archdemon a bit but I sure can't. Just sounds like a bunch of roars and screams to me. The Wardens who do have been Wardens for decades." He smiled grimly. "Unless you'd like to wait to see if one of us will eventually learn the skill. Maybe you can tell the Archdemon to wait a couple of decades and then come back?"

She bit her lip for a moment, and then decided to stay quiet. Maybe understanding the dragon had been a fluke. "Why didn't Duncan just tell everyone that the Wardens can hear the Archdemon?"

"He did," Alistair protested. "He said he felt the Archdemon's presence. Everyone just assumed he was guessing."

"Couldn't he have explained that Grey Wardens actually hear the Archdemon?" Elissa demanded.

Alistair shook his head vigorously. "It's a Grey Warden secret."

"Why?"

"I don't know." He shrugged a shoulder. "That's just what Duncan told me."

Elissa growled under her breath. "What's the point in keeping information a secret when that just leads to more deaths?"

If they'd known that, maybe their battle plan would have been different. Maybe Cailan would have lived, and Loghain wouldn't have betrayed them all.

"I'm sure there's a reason," Alistair insisted stubbornly.

Elissa scowled, but let it go. It was too late now anyway. "So these dreams, how often should I expect them?"

Alistair shifted awkwardly. "During peace, they happened once a week, maybe. During the Blight? I don't know, but Duncan said that eventually you can block the dreams out after a while."

"Do you know how?"

"No," Alistair admitted. "I've not managed it yet."

"Great." She sighed.

"Anyhow, when I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you." Alistair added, "it was scary for me at first too."

The clearing in the trees was silent for a few long minutes, and she watched the flames dance. The warmth touched her cheeks, making her only more aware of how cold she was. She shivered. Abruptly, material was settling around her shoulders and she glanced up as Alistair sat down beside her. It was his cloak that he'd draped over her. "Thank you," she murmured, drawing the edges closer around her.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "No problem."

His smile was so similar to Cailan's, and she felt her heart clench. "You, ah, said Arl Eamon raised you?"

Panic flashed through his eyes before disappearing. "Did I say that? I meant that dogs raised me. Giant slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact."

"That explains the smell," she said dryly.

He grinned. "Well, I didn't discover until I was eight that you don't have to lick yourself clean. Old habits die hard you know."

"That would explain the breath too," she added.

"And my table manners." He laughed. "Although, come to think of it, they weren't that different to the other Templars."

"They are rather like guard dogs, aren't they?" Elissa suggested. "Guarding the mages."

"True. Let's see, how do I explain this? I'm a bastard." He nudged her. "And before you make any smart remarks, I mean the fatherless kind. My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn't my father but he took me in anyhow and gave me a roof over my head. He was good to me, and he didn't have to be."

Actually, she suspected he did. King Maric no doubt asked him to watch over Alistair, and if anything had happened to him, well, she wouldn't have wanted to be in the Arl's shoes, brother-in-law or no.

"He wasn't your father? Do you know who was?" He obviously did, but she wanted to know if he'd admit it to her.

He grimaced. "I know who I was told was my father. But he died even before my mother anyway." He shrugged. "It isn't important."

"Who you were told was your father? You don't believe it?" After seeing Cailan, how could he not?

He shrugged again uncomfortably. "I don't know."

Elissa frowned. "I used to visit Redcliffe. Why did I never meet you?"

"I-I was kept out of sight." He looked away.

The lines in her forehead deepened. Why would Eamon hide the King's son, even if he was a bastard? "How could you have been kept out of sight for weeks at a time?"

"I wasn't exactly. You may have seen me, but you would have thought I was a servant."

"A servant?" her voice was icy. Maric's son, a Prince of Ferelden, a servant? She would have quite a few very unkind things to say to the Arl when they met. And how had King Maric let this happen?

"It was all right," Alistair said hastily. "He was good to me."

"You were forced to act the part of a servant when you had noble guests around? That's hardly 'good to you'! What else? Did he make you sleep outside?" she demanded sarcastically.

"It wasn't like that," he protested. "I slept in the stables-"

Elissa's eyes widened. "The stables?"

Alistair backpedalled. "It was very a comfortable stable. I had my own hay bed, and it was warm because the dogs were there." His eyes were wide and earnest.

Every word he said only made her angrier. It seemed that quip about the dogs earlier hadn't exactly been a quip. A cold feeling settled into her stomach. "What about when the Arl didn't have guests?"

"What about it?" He looked confused.

"What happened to you? Did you sleep in the castle then?" she said through gritted teeth.

"No. I told you. I slept in the stables." He gave her a bemused look.

"I can't believe this." She jumped to her feet and began to pace, holding the blanket tightly about her shoulders. "Were you actually a servant?"

He shook his head. "No. The Arlessa didn't like to see me. So I stayed out of the castle. It's why I'm so good with animals. But I don't understand. Why are you so angry?"

She whirled on him. "Do you think it's normal for a nobleman's ward to live in the stables?"

"Well, no. But you don't understand, it was difficult for the Arl. The Arlessa…" he trailed off.

"What about her?" The Arl's wife was an irritating Orlesian woman who insisted that a noblewoman's place was in her husband's home and not using weapons. Needless to say, she and Elissa had not gotten along.

"She resented the rumours that pegged me as her husband's bastard. They weren't true of course, but they existed. The Arl didn't care. But she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten." He made a face. "Just as well actually. The Arlessa made sure the castle wasn't a home to me by that point. She despised me." His voice was light, but a shadow lingered in his eyes.

Anger at Isolde flared inside her. "And you don't think that's horrible?"

He didn't look convinced. "Well, I didn't like it. But she felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now. I don't blame her. She wondered herself if the rumours were true, I bet."

"That's no excuse," Elissa snapped. "She had a duty to her husband to welcome his ward, regardless of what she thought his parentage was. And you were just a child! And the Arl, he should never have let her get away with it!"

He shrugged. "He wanted to keep his wife happy."

She growled and threw herself on the ground beside him, fury radiating from every line of her body. She would have to have a long conversation with both Isolde and Eamon, and it would not be pleasant.

"I remember I had an amulet as a child," Alistair said, "with Andraste's holy symbol on it. The only thing I had of my mother's."

"What happened to it?" Elissa asked, taking deep breaths to calm herself down.

"I was so furious at being sent away, I took it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered." He scowled at the memory. "Stupid, stupid thing to do." He looked up at her earnestly. "The Arl did come by the monastery a few times to see how I was doing. He did try, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything….eventually he just stopped coming."

"You were young," she said through gritted teeth.

"And raised by dogs. Or I might as well have been, given how I acted."

She glared at the dirt. That wasn't funny when it was so close to the truth. "But maybe all young bastards act like that, I don't know. And regardless of what you think about the way he treated me, the Arl is a good man and well-loved by the people. He was also King Cailan's uncle so he has a personal motivation to see Loghain pay for what he did."

Elissa's jaw clenched as she suppressed the instinctive flinch at Loghain's name. Eamon had a personal motive all right, but he'd also want to get rid of Loghain for personal gain. With the Cousland line all but destroyed between Howe, the Blight and the Grey Wardens, and Loghain out of the picture, he'd be the most powerful man in Ferelden next to the king.

Alistair cleared his throat. "Anyway, that's all there really is to the story."

Another sidelong look at him told her the story was over. He wasn't going to budge if she pushed him. She regarded the fire for another long moment, letting her anger drain away. It would do neither of them any good for her to keep arguing with him. Then, "how did you become a Grey Warden?"

"Same way you did. You drink some blood, you choke on it and pass out. You haven't forgotten already have you?" his amusement was clear.

She turned to glare at him. "Very funny."

His smile was unrepentant. "I do my best, what can I say?" He sobered slightly. "The Chantry trained me to be a Templar. That's where I learned most of my skills."

So he'd said at Ostagar.

"You don't seem like the religious sort," she said carefully.

"You're telling me." He snorted. "I was sent to the kitchens to scrub the pots more times than I can count. And that's a lot of times. I can count pretty high." His smile was wry. "The grand cleric didn't want to let me go. Duncan was forced to conscript me actually and was she ever furious when he did it. I thought she'd have us both arrested. I was lucky."

"You prefer this to being a Templar?" she asked.

"Oh, I suppose the Chantry life is good for some," he said nonchalantly. "But here we have the chance to fight against the blight, to actually do some good in the world instead of sitting in a temple. I'll always be grateful to him for recruiting me. Without him, I would never, I'd never have…" his face crumpled.

She winced. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought him up."

"No, it's...I'm sorry. I shouldn't be…it's fine. He died a hero. They all did."

"Yes." Elissa's lips twisted wryly. It was the sort of thing that someone would eventually make a ballad of. The Last Stand of the Doomed Wardens, or something.

Alistair's eyes were anguished. "It's just…I know it probably sounds stupid, but a part of me wishes I was with him. In the battle. I feel like I abandoned him.

Elissa swallowed. "I know what you mean."

She sat silently for a moment while he got himself under control again. Then, she asked, "any other surprises I should know about?"

Although they'd been travelling together for a week now, they'd not had time to sit down and discuss what being a Grey Warden meant. All she knew was what she'd heard from the legends and picked up from what Duncan had mentioned, which was not a lot. There was a reason for the Grey Wardens' secretive reputation, after all.

He shifted uncomfortably. "I've only been a Grey Warden for six months. Most of the secrets aren't told at that level."

Elissa sighed. Secrets. More Maker-damned secrets. She felt like screaming. But Alistair looked so depressed she couldn't bring herself to do it. "What _do_ you know?"

"You only have thirty years to live," he blurted out.

"What?" her voice cracked as it rose. She flinched from the volume, and glanced warily at Leliana's tent. There was no movement, and she hoped the other woman had managed to sleep through the shriek. Morrigan's tent, set further away by itself, showed no sign of movement either.

Alistair looked miserable. "The taint, it's a death sentence. Ultimately your body won't be able to take it."

Elissa's eyes widened. "How?"

"Darkspawn blood is poisonous. Only in Grey Wardens, it is delayed," he explained. "In about thirty years, the dreams will get worse. And then you'll know you've reached your Calling."

"What happens then?" she asked numbly. "We become ghouls like everyone else?"

Alistair shook his head. "You'll go to the Deep Roads to die."

"The Deep Roads? The dwarven tunnels?" she recalled the stories of King Maric, Loghain and Rowan's escape through the tunnels to Gwaren during the civil war, and of Maric's return to them years later, accompanying the Wardens.

"They're flooded with darkspawn. Since we'll die anyway, it's tradition that we go there and take out as many as we can before we die."

"Right," she said dully. So she had thirty years to live. She'd escaped death at Howe's hands only to 'willingly' drink a deadly poison that Duncan hadn't told her about. Her lips tightened. Was her mother's sacrifice to buy them time worth it? Her stomach clenched. Eleanor would have said yes, she knew. Thirty years was still thirty more years than she would have otherwise had. "Anything else?"

He looked embarrassed. "I, uh, don't know how to perform the Joining ritual."

Elissa's jaw dropped and she stared at him. "You don't know how to do the Joining ritual?" Was he serious?

"No," he admitted. "All I know is it involves some lyrium, and some magic, and is really hard to do."

She supposed it wasn't the end of the world. She had no intention of conscripting anyone else into this life, especially given what she'd just learned, and neither Morrigan nor Leliana had indicated any interest in actually becoming a Warden. "We'll just have to get along without it. Anyone who joins our little band just won't be a Warden."

Alistair shifted uncomfortably. "Normally, Grey Wardens don't travel with non-Wardens. Our secrets…"

"We're already travelling with Morrigan and Leliana," Elissa pointed out. "And we don't have much choice do we?"

"The Circle might know something," he said hopefully. "I know some of the mages at Ostagar helped with the ritual."

"We'll ask when we get there," she promised.

"Good." He smiled brightly. "Oh, and we're always hungry."

"I had gathered that much," Elissa said dryly. It was somewhat hard to miss when she found her appetite had more than doubled since the Joining ritual, and after watching Alistair inhale everything in sight. It was why, less than a week after leaving Flemeth, they'd needed to replenish their dry food stores in Lothering, as well as a constant need to hunt for fresh meat and vegetables. "We're going to need more supplies than we've been able to afford so far if we keep eating like this."

"Duncan said there was a Grey Warden compound in Denerim," Alistair suggested. "We might be able to find supplies there."

"Loghain," her voice caught in her throat and she forced herself to continue, "will have people watching it. Waiting for us. Danal at the tavern said it's only a nineteen day trip to Kinloch Hold. Hopefully the Circle of Magi will be able to spare some supplies."

The blond man sighed. "Nineteen days with Morrigan. What fun."

"She's not that bad." Elissa's lips quirked into a smile.

"No?" Alistair stared at her. "She spends her whole time baiting me!"

"Then maybe don't rise to it?" Elissa nudged him with an elbow, ignoring the fact that he'd not be able to feel it through his armour. "You know she just likes to watch you get upset."

"She's a complete bitch," Alistair grumbled.

"Try to get along," Elissa suggested, rising to her feet. "We have enough enemies without any in-fighting."

He shot her a warm smile. "I'll try. You going to try going back to sleep?"

She nodded, and swung the cloak off her shoulders. She handed it to him with a smile. "I'll see you in the morning. Unless there are any more surprises?"

"Other than the whole dying young and the whole defeat-the-blight alone thing….? No, I'm all tapped out of surprises," he quipped.

"Glad to hear it. Good night." She ducked back into her tent and shook her head with a half-smile. Duke was sprawled half over the bedroll.

Elissa nudged him over and then curled up against him.


	10. The Breath Before The Plunge

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect _for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things_. _They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative or positive) are always welcome, and I do respond to each of them individually.

**Second Note:** I would like to warn everyone that I've been struggling to write while at university, so we'll be finishing the work I've already written by Christmas. After that I can make no promises as to speed of updates, unfortunately. I'm really very sorry!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong> – The Breath Before the Plunge

_Your eyes meet mine,_

_A shiver of warmth runs up my spine,_

_Then you turn, and he looks my way,_

_And I don't know what to say_

∞ _An extract from 'The Story of Lady Yelanda', an Orlesian bard song_

Over two weeks later, Elissa was shivering in the pouring rain. Cold water beat down hard against her dark green oilskin cloak, and seeped into the hood to drench her face and hair. The biting wind coming off Lake Calenhad turned the rain to icy fire running along her skin and chilled her to the bone. Grey, miserable clouds blanketed the heavens, and a dreary fatigue permeated the group of travellers.

"This is utterly stupid," Alistair muttered.

"Tis only rain," Morrigan retorted. "You will not melt, Alistair." Unlike the others, she wasn't wearing a cloak. She seemed undeterred by the rain, even reveling in the water droplets sliding down her face.

Alistair spluttered. "No, that'd be you."

"Tis a fool who believes in that old tale," Morrigan snipped.

"Witches of the Wild are only tales," he reminded her. "Yet here you are."

They topped a rise, and Elissa came to a halt. Her upraised hand stopped the others in their tracks, ending the squabble. White stone pillars marched down the hill on either side of the stony path, towards the edge of Lake Calenhad. Through the grey haze, the water looked still and lifeless where it washed up against the base of the massive white tower rising hundreds of feet into the air. Closer up, she knew, the sheer glass of the lake would reveal the thousands of rain drops hitting its surface and perhaps even a glimpse of an underwater animal or two. "We're almost there," she called.

"Here's to hoping the tavern is decent," Alistair grumbled.

"It's fine," Leliana said in exasperation.

She led the way down the muddy slope, trying desperately not to slip and tumble. While much quicker, it was not her preferred method of getting down there. In the distance, she glimpsed the shine of silver armour out on the dock.

A stone and wood two story building was tucked away at the side of the road at the bottom of the hill. The wooden sign outside proclaimed it an inn, just as Leliana had promised when she'd first told them of it a couple of days before. They could stay the night here before moving on and crossing the lake in the morning.

Elissa pushed open the heavy wood door, made slippery by the rain. A blast of warm, dry air hit her face, carrying with it the smell of baked bread and spiced stew. Her mouth watered. The tavern common room was dimly lit, and only a handful of tables were occupied. A low murmur of chatter filled the room, coming largely from a group of half-drunk men in the corner, mercenaries to judge by their well-worn armour and swords. The rest of the room was largely quiet, the handful of scattered travellers minding their own drinks and business. In the corner, a figure cloaked in dark green looked up at their entrance. A matronly woman balanced two pints of ale and a plate in her hands as she made her way back to the kitchens. Behind the bar, a grumpy looking man watched over the room with a proprietary, hawkish eye. His once-white tunic was now a dull grey-brown, but he himself was scrubbed clean.

The innkeeper, for that was what he was, turned towards the sound of the door closing. His beady eyes swept across the group dripping on his wooden floors, and then he hurried forward. "Good day, and welcome to the Spoiled Princess, sers. Sit and I will be with you."

Elissa pulled off her cloak, revealing dark red hair. Wet as it was, it clung to her forehead and cheeks. "Do you have rooms available tonight?"

He ushered them towards a corner table. "Indeed I do. How many rooms were you wanting?"

"How much for the night?" Elissa countered.

"For you, ser, four silvers per room," the innkeeper offered. "Comes with breakfast of honey porridge, or cheese and bread."

"Cheese!" Alistair said excitedly.

She ignored him, and raised an eyebrow. "For that price, I would expect a room in the palace with a sea view," she exaggerated. "Two silvers."

The innkeeper shook his head sadly. "I have a family to feed and we get so few visitors in this direction. Three silvers."

"Five silvers, twenty-five coppers for two rooms," she bargained.

He looked uncertainly at the group, and then sighed. "Yes, ser. Shall I show you to your rooms or would you be wanting dinner now?"

Elissa glanced at her bedraggled companions. "Rooms first, I think."

An hour later they were back in the common room, dry and changed. Morrigan had objected to sharing a room initially, but had acquiesced to sharing with Elissa when it was pointed out that renting another room for the night meant less money for a good meal that night. Alistair and Leliana were sharing the other room, despite Alistair's clear trepidation.

"Beef stew an' bread is six coppers, th' roas' chicken with potato is seven coppers. Ale is four coppers, and th' wine is five," the serving woman told them.

After two weeks of game stew, generally whatever Morrigan had hunted down, and the two weeks before of dried foods on the trip south with Duncan, chicken and potato sounded like heaven. "The chicken, and wine," she said quickly.

As the others ordered, Elissa glanced around the tavern. The same people from earlier were still there, seeking refuge from the rain which was thundering against the creaky roof. A leak in the corner of the tavern dripped slowly into a metal bucket. Her gaze was drawn back to the concealed figure in the corner. Although he wasn't quite as concealed now. The hood was thrown back, revealing lightly browned skin, black hair and piercing blue eyes. Abruptly, he unfolded himself from his wooden bench and moved across the floor towards their group. Elissa nudged Morrigan to get her attention, and let her hand slide down to rest on the hilt of the dagger strapped to her waist. Leliana was already watching him from the corner of her eye, despite seeming to be holding a conversation with the oblivious Alistair.

He came to a stop beside the table.

"Excuse me." His voice was an educated light tenor.

"Yes?" she answered warily.

Alistair finally fell silent, realizing they weren't alone.

"You're the Grey Warden." It was a statement, not a question.

Her eyes narrowed, and the tension at the table ratcheted up a notch. She opened her mouth to deny it.

He cut her off. "Before you say anything, I saw your friend's shield."

Alistair's shield? She frowned in confusion. What did that have to do with anything?

The man in question groaned. "Of course. The Grey Warden shield Duncan gave me."

Elissa felt like hitting him…or herself. How could they have missed that? It was a dead giveaway to anyone who so much as looked at them. Her hand tightened on the dagger. A glance to the side showed Alistair subtly sliding towards the edge of the bench, his grip on his sword hilt turning his knuckles white. Morrigan's hand was inching towards her staff.

The other man took in the movement at a glance, and instantly held his empty hands up. "I mean you no harm," he said quickly.

Alistair scoffed. "You think us to fools to believe that?"

"I am no soldier. I don't work for the Teyrn," he insisted.

"He speaks the truth," Morrigan announced, "at least about the solider part. He is a mage."

"A mage?" Elissa echoed.

The witch shrugged. "Tis relatively simple for one of us to recognize another."

He looked surprised. "You do not feel like a mage."

"I know how to shield." She arched an eyebrow at him.

"So do I," he protested.

"Not well enough, clearly," Morrigan sneered.

He looked about to say something, and then changed his mind. "As I said before, you are the Grey Warden aren't you?"

The game was up, she supposed. "Yes."

A wide grin split across his face. "Thank the Maker! I'm Roald, and I've been looking for you, mistress." He stepped to the side as the serving woman returned to the table to distribute the drinks.

Elissa handed over the handful of coppers. "You've been looking for me?" she repeated, dubiously. Why would a mage be looking for her, unless it was on Loghain's orders? How did he even know she was alive, given that it was barely two weeks since Ostagar and they'd only been through Lothering.

He waited till the serving woman was gone, and then explained, "I came through Lothering the day you left. The townsfolk were all talking about you. When I heard you were a Warden, well, I approached my superiors about seeing if you could help us. They gave me permission to find you, and here I am." He spread his arms.

"Help you how?" she eyed him.

"I represent a collective of mages who seek to go about their business free from the Chantry's scrutiny."

Elissa wrapped her hands around the mug of wine. "Isn't that against the Chantry law?"

"We harm no one I assure you, and we enforce the Chantry's laws among ourselves. All we seek is life outside of the Templars' shadow."

"What does this have to do with us?"

"In every major settlement, you'll find an inconspicuous bag with requests from mages all over the land who need the assistance of someone skilful and discreet."

"And you want us to help these mages?"

"Yes. You will be rewarded of course. We have agents in every settlement to reward you for your work."

"Why us?" The bitter wine stung her throat as it slid down.

"As I said, you are a Warden. Wardens have the…reputation, of not being so Chantry-bound. I thought you might be…willing to help us,"

Elissa suppressed a snort. Not so Chantry-bound. He may as well have said that Wardens have the reputation of being willing to do illegal things. It wasn't an unfair reputation, she knew. They did any and everything to stop the Blight, whether or not it was legal or even moral. Duncan had made that _quite_ clear.

Leliana leaned forward. "And it doesn't hurt that if we betray you, you could always turn around and give us to Loghain, does it?"

The mage said nothing.

Elissa glanced at the others for their opinions.

"Are we to help every random stranger then?" Morrigan's lips twisted in a sneer. "First in Lothering, and now here? You have already agreed to help one set of fools who cannot find their own heads."

Yes, the Blackstone Irregulars in Lothering. A very well-known group of mercenaries who'd offered them small jobs across Ferelden in exchange for money. She'd agreed to help them more in memory of her father, who'd fought alongside the Irregulars during the rebellion, than anything else, and now had a couple of jobs she'd be able to collect funds for as and when they completed them.

"It _is_ a source of money," Alistair murmured. "And we'll need that for supplies if we can't get to the Compound in Denerim."

"I'll see what I can do," Elissa told the mage.

He looked relieved. "Thank you my friend." He fumbled in his cloak, and withdrew a small cloth bag. He opened the drawstrings and offered it to her. "I have some requests in here for you to see. Accept what you like, and return the rest to me. I'll be over in the corner when you're done."

She took it, and pulled out several sheets of parchment. "What do you think?" She offered them to Morrigan. "You'll know better than I how difficult these are."

The witch sighed heavily, but accepted the parchment.

A thump on the table drew Elissa's attention. The serving woman was back, balancing plates. A roughly hewn plate landed in front of her, with a pair of chicken thighs, three small potatoes and chunks of carrot covered in a heavy dark-brown gravy. A similar plate was presented to Leliana and Morrigan, but Alistair had elected for the bowl of slightly thin beef stew with hunks of bread floating in it.

The woman tossed a large beef bone to Duke, and then turned towards Elissa, wiping her hands on her apron. "Thirty-two coppers, ser."

Elissa counted out the coins, cringing slightly as she watched the coins deplete again. Hopefully the Circle would provide them with some supplies that she didn't need to pay for.

Nearly two hours later, Elissa slipped out of the tavern unnoticed. The rain had stopped and the clouds cleared, although the ground was still muddy. The crescent moon shone down, turning the water black and silver. The night air was cold and heavy with the lingering traces of the day's rain. Morrigan was standing at the edge of the lake, looking out over the wide expanse towards the Circle of Magi. Quietly, Elissa approached her and then stood silently at her side.

"How typical. A giant phallic symbol." Morrigan spoke seemingly to herself. Then she was silent for a long moment before she murmured, "Tis…odd to think that I might have lived here."

"Do you…wish to?" Elissa asked, carefully. It did not sound like Morrigan to want that, but…

She snorted. "To be locked up in that tower forever, waiting for the Templars to kill me, forbidden to learn anything even remotely interesting? No, I am exceedingly glad I am not. Still, I wonder at times." She was quiet for a moment. "I told you about the games my mother and I used to play to avoid the Templars. But I did not tell you there was a time when they almost caught me."

Elissa's eyes widened.

"I was but a child, maybe four or five. And I did not run fast enough, or perhaps I was not quiet enough. It was a game to me, so I did not take it so seriously. They found me in a tree where I was hiding," Morrigan admitted. "Mother had to come and save me." She stared up at the tower again. "So, this was almost my home, for as long as I would have survived."

"Survived?"

Morrigan laughed dryly. "I was born free, Elissa. I would never submit to the trap that these fools bow to every day. I would have kept trying to escape, until I won my freedom or the Templars killed me."

"You prefer being an apostate, then? Being hunted instead of being trapped?"

"Would I not have given myself up already, if I did not?" she wanted to know. Then she said slowly, "it is true there are times I wish I did not have to hide. But I will not give up my freedom for a cage."

"You said earlier that mages can sense each other," Elissa said. "Tomorrow…when we go there…are you going to be safe?"

Morrigan waved a hand dismissively. "Unlike these idiots, I know how to shield myself from both Templar and mage alike. And Mother has layered spells onto my staff, to convince them it is not there. They will not know what I am."

"Are you going to be okay to enter? We could leave you here," Elissa suggested.

The witch shook her head. "I am not scared of them. And if I were to remain, who would bring the voice of reason to our group. The puppy? Or the Chantry sister? I think not."

"I assume the puppy is Alistair, and not Duke?" Elissa said.

"Duke is a war dog," Morrigan sniffed. "He has proven his worth. Alistair, I have yet to see his teeth."

"Is that why you taunt him so much?"

"I taunt him because he's an idiot," she said callously.

"He's not an idiot," Elissa protested.

"He fell over his own feet this morning getting out of his tent," Morrigan retorted.

Elissa smothered a smile. "I didn't know you saw that."

"I didn't. I heard it. Besides which, the boy is so innocent and naïve it makes me sick."

"He's very sweet," Elissa defended him.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Tis just what we need to fight the Blight. A sweet boy. Shall we send him to reason with the darkspawn? They will surely agree to go back underground then. Or perhaps he could tell his jokes, and make them all die with laughter?"

"That is just cruel," Elissa scolded the mage.

She arched an eyebrow. "And your point is?"

Elissa shook her head. "All right, all right. Just, if you could cut back on it a little?"

"We'll see," Morrigan said ungraciously.

"Thank you." Elissa offered her a warm smile. She shivered in the cold night air. "I'm getting cold. I'll see you inside later, yes?"

"Yes, yes." The witch flapped her hand.

Grinning to herself, Elissa headed back for the warmth of the tavern.

"What do you mean we can't go across?" Elissa demanded.

The templar on the dock stared back at her with arms crossed. "Exactly what it sounds like. I am under orders not to let anyone into the Tower."

"But I…" She considered his expression and then changed tack. "Why? What's happened?"

"None of your business."

Elissa's eyes goggled. "None of my business? I want to get to the Tower and you're not letting me, and you say it's none of my business why?" They had to get inside, to the mages. Otherwise this whole trip up had been a waste. They _needed_ the allies.

"The Tower is off limits, and there is nothing more I have to say on the matter," he announced pompously.

"I have documents that compel the Circle to help me," Elissa tried.

"Like what?" he demanded.

"Grey Warden documents."

"You're claiming to be a Grey Warden? Well, I have documents that say I'm the Queen of Antiva. What do you say to that?" he jeered.

"Aren't queens female?" Elissa retorted.

"He fits the part then, doesn't he?" Morrigan drawled.

Leliana laughed.

He spluttered and turned bright red.

"Look," Elissa said tiredly. "I have papers to prove I'm a Grey Warden and that means that the Circle has to help me. If they don't, they're in breach of their treaty obligations. Now, which do you think will make your superior more angry? If you take me across the lake so that if he sends me away, it's his own fault, or if you turn me away here, and _you_ break the treaty with the Wardens?"

The Templar looked confused for a moment. "If I break the treaty, of course."

"Well then." She looked at him expectantly.

His brow furrowed. "What?"

Elissa barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Don't you think you'd better take me across then?"

"But…" And then it clicked. "_Oh_! Yes, of course. Right this way."

It took them nearly three, uncomfortable hours to cross the lake to the Tower. So it was late morning by the time Elissa was climbing out of the wooden boat and onto land again.

"I still can't believe you haven't been sailing before. Where did you grow up?" She held out her hand to help the green-faced Alistair from the boat.

"The Chantry." He clutched his stomach. "They don't exactly encourage us to do adventurous things." He leaned over suddenly, and his stomach heaved. Elissa jumped out of the way, barely avoiding the projectile vomit that splattered into the lake. The smell rose up, and she screwed up her nose.

"It's not fair," Alistair grumbled as he straightened. "None of you are sick."

"I grew up on the edge of the Waking Sea," Elissa told him. "We used to go sailing often." She patted his back, and offered him one of the water-skins. He gave her a grateful smile, and tipped the skin back. He rinsed his mouth out, and then offered it to back to her.

She slipped it back onto the hook on her belt. She glanced at her companions. "Ready?"

She pushed open the heavy doors at the base of the immense tower. The doors opened into a large stone room, intricately carved and decorated, with a giant stone pillar coming up through the middle. Nearly a dozen wounded Templars stood around the room, talking softly. On the far side, an armoured figure was lying down and groaning, seemingly in pain. Another Templar knelt beside him. She couldn't see a single mage.

Her attention was drawn to the middle of the room, where a tall Templar was giving instructions to two others standing in front of him: "…want two men stationed within sight of the door at all times. Do not open the doors without my express consent, understand?"

"Yes ser." The one on the right saluted.

"The doors are barred," Alistair said in a hushed tone. "Are they keeping people out or in?"

She glanced across to pair of giant double doors, which were indeed closed and barred. Two guards stood on either side of it, watching it warily as though it might attack them at any moment.

She led the way towards the man who appeared to be in charge. "You're Knight-Commander Greagoir, I assume?" Silently she thanked Brother Aldous for drilling her in the names of major figures in Ferelden, including the Knight-Commander who watched over the Tower.

He spun, his armour clanking at the movement. He scowled. "Who are you? I explicitly told Carrol not to bring anyone across the lake." The grey eyes he turned on her were dull, despite the strength in his voice. He was in his late forties, perhaps, but with deeper stress lines engraved into his forehead and around his eyes that made him look older. Exhaustion, tempered by determination, seemed to pour off him in waves, and an underlying sadness lingered under that.

"I am Elissa." She offered him her hand. "Don't blame him, I convinced him to bring us across."

His handshake was perfunctory. "Whatever you are here for, I don't care. We are dealing with a very delicate situation. You must leave, for your own safety."

She took a breath. "I am a Grey Warden, and I seek the mages' help to defeat the darkspawn. I cannot leave until I have it."

Greagoir's eyes flickered to Alistair's shield, and he snorted. "The Grey Wardens all died at Ostagar, save one. And she would be bold indeed to admit her identity when there is a bounty for her capture."

She felt, more than saw, Alistair shift his weight behind her. "What reason would I have to lie?" Elissa wanted to know. "For exactly those reasons, it would be stupid."

"And that is the only reason I haven't tossed you straight back on that boat you somehow convinced Caroll to bring you across on," he retorted, meeting her eyes squarely.

"I have the treaties that obligate the mages to aid the Grey Wardens during a Blight." She held her hand out. A moment later Alistair slipped a sheaf of parchment into her hands.

Greagoir didn't even look at them. "I am weary of the Grey Wardens ceaseless need for more men to fight the darkspawn."

Elissa opened her mouth to argue.

He held up a hand. "But regardless of my feelings, if you are indeed the Warden, you will find no allies here. The Templars are busy and the mages are…indisposed."

"Indisposed?" Elissa repeated.

A wave of pain crossed the older man's features. "I shall speak plainly: the tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the Tower halls. The Circle is lost."

"What?" Alistair breathed.

Elissa stared, stunned. "H-how did this happen?" she croaked.

"We don't know." The knight-commander spread his gauntleted hands. "One moment everything was calm, then suddenly there was chaos and we saw only demons hunting mages and Templars alike. I realized we could not defeat them, and told my men to flee."

_Demons._ Elissa shivered in revulsion. Her skin prickled, and she could almost feel the slimy hands sliding down her arms. She shoved the memories away, back into the tiny part of her mind where she'd locked them long ago. _It's not here_, she told herself firmly. _That demon is dead._

"You should have fought them, then. Isn't that the role of Templars?" Morrigan sneered.

Greagoir ignored the tone and turned towards the dark-haired witch. "It is. But they took us by surprise. We were prepared for one or two abominations – not the horde that descended upon us." His shoulders slumped a little further. "We barely made it out the door."

"Templars are trained to kill mages, but enough of them and they will be overwhelmed," Alistair explained quietly. He looked back up at Greagoir. "What is your plan then?"

"I would destroy the tower, raze it to the ground, but I cannot risk more of my men," the Templar said grimly. "Thus, the doors remain shut and they will protect us for now."

Elissa's eyes widened. "You shut everyone in there? Including innocent mages? With _demons_?"

Her fingers and palms tingled with a ghost-like pain, in memory of shredded four-year-old fingers that had scrabbled fruitlessly against the barred door in the cottage, leaving bloody handprints on the wood that remained long after she'd lost consciousness. It had taken months for her to be able to even tolerate a closed door.

His face darkened. "Not just mages but my Templars also," he snapped. "I had no choice. The abominations must be contained at all costs." He sighed. "We do not mean for the doors to remain shut forever. I have sent word to Denerim for reinforcements, and for the Rite of Annulment."

She frowned. The phrase was familiar, and she'd definitely heard it before. But she couldn't quite place it. "Rite of Annulment?"

"The Rite of Annulment gives the Templars the authorization to neutralize the Circle of Magi," Greagoir's face was blank. "Completely."

Her jaw dropped. "You would kill innocents?" her voice cracked.

"Tis what Templars do best," Morrigan spat.

Elissa winced as Greagoir's lips tightened until they were nearly white. "Morrigan," she said sharply. "Enough." She glared at the witch. Morrigan stared back at her insolently.

Greagoir didn't look happy as he turned back. "Those left in there are probably already dead, or worse. Any abominations remaining in there must be dealt with no matter what."

"It is an extreme solution, is it not?" Elissa asked carefully. He was talking wholesale murder, slaughtering the dozens of mages and Templars who'd been trapped in the Tower.

"The situation is dire," he said flatly. "There is no alternative - everything in that Tower must be destroyed so that it can be made safe. If even one abomination were to escape, far more people than simply the occupants of this tower would die."

"There must be another way," Leliana broke in. "I cannot believe that the only way is to murder every mage."

"Killing abominations is not murder," Greagoir retorted. "If there was another way, do you not think I would have taken it? There are only abominations and demons left in this tower. No-one could have survived those monstrous creatures. It is too painful to hope for survivors and then…" He set his jaw. "No, there is no other way. I do not have the men to go through the Tower and search out the abominations, while keeping guard over the door to prevent any from escaping."

"So the mages are all locked away within. A fitting end for those who gave up their freedom," Morrigan said under her breath.

Greagoir showed no sign of having heard her, thank the Maker. It was as though Morrigan _wanted_ to be discovered as an apostate while surrounded by Templars.

Elissa forced herself to look at this practically. She needed the mages help against the darkspawn. The stories were all clear that mage support went a long way against the darkspawn. Even only a handful would be useful. But in order to get that, she had to somehow convince this stick-in-the-mud to rescue any mages that survived.

"How long has it been since you sent to Denerim? When will the Rite arrive?"

"It has been seven days, and it worries me," he admitted. "The civil war has no doubt caused much turmoil. Has the Chantry been caught up in it? I can only guess."

Elissa considered that. "A week. Then your message would just have arrived, if it even has yet."

It would take the Chantry at least that long to march back to the Tower. But that only bought them seven days.

"We sent our fastest messenger. Denerim should have received our message. It will not be long now."

That didn't give them very much time, then.

"Elissa, can I talk to you for a moment?" Alistair said suddenly.

She smiled apologetically at Greagoir. "Excuse us a moment, ser." She followed her companion a little way off. "What? This isn't exactly the time for a chat."

"What if we went in?" Alistair asked quietly.

"In?"

"To the tower. And fought the demons."

"Are you insane, Alistair?" Elissa demanded. He had to be. There was no other explanation.

"Think about it, Elissa." Alistair leaned forward, his eyes bright. "We need the mages against the darkspawn. Without magical support, there's no way we'll be able to end the Blight. If we can kill the abominations, maybe there will be some mages alive in there who can help us."

"But you want to go into the Tower. With mages who are apparently out of control, and demons running loose? You're absolutely barking mad."

No, she couldn't. She absolutely couldn't. It had been hard enough to get used to feeling Morrigan's magic. She still startled every time the witch cast, and was resisting the urge to run. She couldn't go in and face full blown demons and abominations.

Duke yipped his agreement.

"Who else, if not us?" Alistair asked. "The Templars here can't risk going in, and we can't afford for the Rite to be conducted. But we're Grey Wardens, we do what we have to defeat the Blight."

She fought to keep her voice quiet. "We can't defeat _anything_ if we're dead! There are demons in there, Alistair. _Demons_!" She was vaguely aware of several Templars nearby turning towards her.

"You think I don't know that? I was trained by the Templars," he reminded her. "I know what demons do."

"There are five of us." Elissa glanced around, silently counting armoured men. "And dozens of Templars. Why do you think we can do what they couldn't?"

"Because we have no choice!" Alistair stepped closer to her. "Elissa, please!"

"You're crazy."

Alistair grinned, although it didn't reach his eyes. "I know. It's part of my charm."

Elissa sighed. What other choice did they have? Without magical help, they were screwed. "This is the worst idea, ever."

His smile twitched.

She headed back towards Greagoir, and braced herself for what she was about to say. "If we help you clear out the demons and abominations, will you call off the Chantry?"

"Call off th-" There was a long moment of silence. "You think to enter the Tower, kill the abominations and find living mages?" Greagoir looked at her sceptically. "You would be killed the moment you entered."

"You want to help these pathetic excuses for mages?" Morrigan demanded**. **"They allowed themselves to be corralled like cattle, mindless. Now their masters have chosen death for them and I say, let them have it."

Greagoir's face darkened.

Elissa shook her head. "We need the help. If this is the only way for us to get the mages' aid, then we don't really have a choice."

Morrigan sneered. "Have it your way."

Greagoir took a breath, and obviously ignored Morrigan. He nodded slowly to Elissa. "Very well." A gleam of hope sparked in his eyes. "If by some miracle you destroy all the abominations and there are mages left alive, yes, I will speak to the Chantry and keep them from enacting the Rite."

"The Chantry will never let that happen," a young Templar, barely older than Elissa herself, objected. "They'll say it is too risky to let an abomination escape."

"I called for the Rite. If I say it is no longer needed, they will listen to me," Greagoir said confidently.

"Then we have an agreement." A curious mix of hope and mind-numbing terror settled in her belly.

"We do. A word of caution – once you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The doors must remain barred. I will open them for no-one without proof that it is safe. I will only believe the situation is dealt with when the First Enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so."

"What if Irving is already dead?" Elissa frowned.

"If Irving has fallen, then the Circle is lost and must be destroyed," Greagoir said flatly. "Then, I will open the doors for you to leave only once the reinforcements have arrived and we purge the Circle. You will be trapped in there until then."

Elissa swallowed. "So be it."

"Warden, if the Circle is lost and all the mages gone," he said, "once the Tower is cleared, the Templars of the Circle will follow you against the darkspawn."

"Are you mad, Greagoir?" another Templar burst out. "You want to fight darkspawn now?"

"Our purpose was to guard the mages," Greagoir said sharply. "With the mages gone, and in the absence of instructions from Denerim, I must decide our course. Destroying the darkspawn seems like a worthy goal."

"Just because you're ready to kill yourself doesn't mean the rest of us are! This is what happens when you frat-"

"Not another word, Talvern," Greagoir thundered, his eyes flashing. "You forget yourself!"

Elissa exchanged a glance with Leliana. That was interesting.

He turned back towards Elissa. "Are you ready to go in now?" His voice was still tight with suppressed anger.

"I suppose so." She turned towards her companions. "I will not force any of you to come with me. As the Knight-Commander said, the risk is great." She hesitated. "But I would welcome the help." She wasn't fooling anyone, let alone herself. With their help, it would be hard enough to destroy what a dozen Templars couldn't. Without them, she stood no chance. Yet she was a Grey Warden and she needed to gather her army.

Duke was the first to react, padding towards the giant double doors.

"I'm right behind you." The mental itch that represented Alistair to her darkspawn senses moved into place behind and to the right. Leliana's bright hair swung as she stepped up behind Elissa, slightly to the left. Morrigan's boots clicked as the witch too followed them.

"May Andraste lend you her courage," Greagoir said grimly, as he gestured for the doors to be unbolted.

_We're going to need more than her courage_, she thought to herself, allowing no sign of her thoughts to show on her face. Taking a deep breath, she strode towards the doors, painfully aware of the Templars standing behind her with bared swords waiting to see if something jumped out of the doors. With a heavy grating sound, the doors swung open to reveal a long, empty stone corridor that curved out of sight. Glowing crystal balls were nestled in brackets on the wall, lighting the corridor almost disturbingly brightly. They stepped through. Elissa glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze resting on Greagoir's solemn face.

A flicker of something darted through his eyes, and he inclined his head. "Be careful," he called. "Not all abominations look like monsters." Then he gestured. The heavy doors swung shut behind them with an echoing thud. It was followed with the dull sound of the metal bolt sliding home. A tingle ran across the back of her neck.

Morrigan turned to her. "Well, Elissa, what have you gotten us into now?" she drawled.


	11. Haunting the Past

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** Bioware owns everything you recognize. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. A huge thank you to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect _for their help. Any remaining errors are mine.

Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative or positive) are always welcome, and I do respond to each of them individually.

I apologize for the late posting of this chapter. I blame the arrival of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, and the resulting time loss!

* * *

><p>Chapter 11 – Haunting the Present<p>

_Shaped in the past,_

_Each action and event,_

_Burned into my mind to_

_Shade my present and_

_my future_

∞ A torn manuscript found in the ruins of Ostagar in 5 Dragon

"I haven't the faintest clue," Elissa said grimly. "But you didn't have to come if you didn't want to."

"Mother sent me to look after you," Morrigan said dismissively. "I could hardly do _that_ when you are in here and I am out there, could I? And frankly, without me you won't stand a chance in here. I, at least, can meet these creatures on their own ground."

Ignoring her, Elissa turned to Alistair. He was staring at their surroundings in fascination, and didn't notice her. She caught his arm to gain his attention. "How much do you remember of your Templar training?"

He stilled. "I, er-" He coughed to clear his throat. "I-I can still use the abilities. But I have never fought the sort of battles we're going to see in here. I've never, uh, actually been in a mage tower."

She pulled her hand back, seeing he was uncomfortable with the contact.

"None of us have." Elissa swallowed, her throat dry. That wasn't quite true. But she hadn't been old enough to remember much of that fight. "I suppose our game plan for the moment is to survive, then. Since we have no idea how to actually fight these things."

"Surviving is good," he agreed.

"Right, let's move." She led the way down the curving corridor. A shattered door swung off one hinge, the wood looking distinctly worse for wear. Elissa drew her sword and settled her shield, hearing the others behind her arm themselves.

"Brace yourself," Alistair muttered.

Then she threw the door open and jumped through the doorway. Dead silence met her.

"Nothing," Morrigan said in disgust.

She was right. The massive dormitory room was empty of all life, although the disarray of books, upended chairs and broken furniture indicated a battle of some sort had taken place here.

"Hello?" Elissa called cautiously. No response. "Let's search the room. See if we can find any survivors." The itchiness behind her neck grew stronger, and she wished for a moment that she could scratch it. But that was impossible in gauntlets.

As they picked their way through the room, Alistair muttered, "as I recall, shutting the door and throwing away the key was always the Templar's Plan B."

She patted him on the shoulder. "Apparently, it got promoted."

A satisfied cry drew both their attentions to Leliana. The redhead stood up from where she had been kneeling by the wall, with a pair of blue potions in her hand.

"Where did you find those?" Morrigan drew nearer.

Leliana nudged the chest at her feet. "I…liberated them."

"You stole them," Alistair said flatly.

She shrugged. "Well, the mages aren't using them are they? And Morrigan might need the mana, if there are as many demons in here as that man implied."

"Yes." Morrigan nearly snatched them out of Leliana's hands.

"You're welcome," Leliana called after the retreating mage.

A few minutes later, the group emerged back into the corridor. They had found no-one alive. At the end of the curved corridor, they came to a cracked wooden door. Elissa glanced back at her companions to check they were ready. Then she leaned back and kicked the door down.

This room, unlike the previous one, was not empty. An elderly mage in flowing red robes stood near the exit doorway on the other side of the room, where blue magic sparkled in the doorway. A young woman hovered nearby, her hands clenching and twisting in her gold and brown robes. In a corner, three children in child-sized robes huddled with another woman. A tall man in blue stood near them, his attention split between his charges and the two women. Elissa felt relief flood her body: the risk they had taken in coming in had been valid. There were mages alive, people she could rescue.

The elderly woman whirled towards them, and with a start, Elissa recognised Wynne, the mage from Ostagar. Wynne's eyes widened in surprise. "It's you."

"You remember me?" Elissa was impressed. They'd barely had a conversation, and she was sure Wynne had had many more important people to remember than a Grey Warden recruit. She moved forwards, towards the mage, dropping her sword.

"No, come no further," Wynne's hands tightened on her staff. "Grey Warden or no, I will strike you down where you stand." The lines in her face were much deeper than they'd been in Ostagar, and weariness emanated from every pore in her body. But despite that, her eyes were alert and determined.

Elissa stopped, blinking in surprise. "What?"

"I won't let you harm us," Wynne announced. "I will kill you first."

"Wynne!" Alistair looked gobsmacked. Then his expression tightened and he took a threatening step forward and sideways, moving between the two women. "I won't let you do that."

The young woman at Wynne's side raised her own staff, clearly prepared to defend her companion.

Swallowing her own instinctive fear of the upraised staff, Elissa caught his arm tightly. "Alistair." She shook her head at him minutely. Then she looked past him to meet Wynne's tired blue eyes. "I'm not here to fight you, or hurt any of you."

Wynne considered her for a moment, and then the staff began to slowly lower. "I do not think you would lie, so I will accept that for now. But what are you doing here, then?"

"I came here seeking the aid of the mages," she admitted, "against the darkspawn."

"Of course, you need to build an army now." Wynne shook her head sadly. "And you were told the Circle was in no shape to help you I suppose? It is true enough. Other than those here with me, I have not seen any other mages for days. All we have seen are abominations and demons." She frowned. "But then why have the Templars let you in? Do they plan to attack the Tower now?" Her knuckles turned white against the dark wood of her staff.

"No, no," Elissa reassured her quickly. "Don't worry, the Rite of Annulment hasn't yet arrived."

Wynne sighed. "Then they have called for it. I feared they might have." Her fingers tightened on the staff, and then relaxed again as she shook her head. "But what else could they do? Greagoir no doubt thinks the Circle is beyond hope. He probably assumes we are all dead."

"Yes," Elissa said slowly, "but-"

Wynne didn't seem to hear her. "They abandoned us to our fate, but even trapped as we are we have survived. But if they invoke the right, we will not be able to stand against them," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "They will overwhelm us and we will die." The young woman beside her closed her eyes.

Morrigan snorted.

"I hope it does not come to that," Elissa said quietly. "If we can prove to Greagoir that the Tower is safe, he has agreed to call off the Rite."

Surprise flashed across Wynne's face. "Truly? But the Chantry would not accept that claim, not when the Tower has been taken over as thoroughly as it has."

"Greagoir seems quite certain he can manage it," Alistair interrupted.

"He knows the Chantry better than I," Wynne allowed. "Perhaps he can."

"What happened here?" Elissa wanted to know. "Greagoir couldn't tell us much."

Wynne's lips thinned. "Suffice to say, we had something of a revolt on our hands, led by a mage named Uldred**. **When he returned from the battle at Ostagar, he tried to take over the Circle. By the time I returned, Uldred had all but convinced the Tower to side with Loghain, the man who nearly destroyed us all."

"What?" Alistair demanded. "How could they?"

"Uldred had a persuasive argument and how could they know what happened at Ostagar?" Wynne reminded him.

Leliana frowned. "What did Uldred say?"

"He claimed an alliance with Loghain would be to the Circle's advantage," Wynne explained. "According to Uldred, once Loghain was in power he would order the Chantry to give the Circle more freedom."

Elissa's breath caught in her throat. Loghain had met with one of the mages in Ostagar. She'd seen them talking together that night. But the mage hadn't looked happy when he left. And Loghain had said nothing later.

Wynne shook her head. "It would never happen. Loghain hardly trusts mages since the last First Enchanter tried to kill King Maric, he would never try to free us from Chantry oversight."

Alistair frowned. "And even if he did, the Chantry does not answer to the Crown."

"Yes," Wynne agreed. "But they were pretty words and the Tower fell for them. When I got back to the Tower, I told the First Enchanter Irving what Loghain did on the battlefield, revealing him for the traitorous bastard he is. Irving said he would take care of it. He called a meeting to confront Uldred, but something must have gone wrong. I emerged from my quarters when I heard the screams. They were coming from the meeting room, and not long after that, I saw the first abomination, running down a mage. Things deteriorated quickly then."

_Traitor. Yes, a traitor to all of Ferelden. _"So this all started at this meeting, then?"

"It must have, though I don't know for sure," Wynne said. "The creatures came from that direction, as far as I could tell. I do not know what became of Uldred, but I am certain this is all his doing. I will not lose the Circle to one man's pride and stupidity."

"This is your barrier?" Morrigan drawled, gesturing towards the glowing blue field.

Wynne's brow furrowed as she looked at the younger girl, and a puzzled expression crossed her face. "Yes, to protect the children," the old mage said slowly.

"If we are going to save the Circle-" Morrigan's lip curled. "-you will need to take it down."

"Yes, of course. When we're ready, I'll bring it down."

Elissa glanced at the huddled figures against the wall. "Will the children be safe here if we do that?" Though she really couldn't see another option if Wynne said no. They had to go through, and to do that the barrier would have to come down. Unless…"Could you put it back up once we've gone through?"

"I could not maintain a barrier of this strength at a distance."

"Wait! At a distance?" Alistair blurted. "Are you coming?"

"Of course," she looked surprised.

Elissa cleared her throat. "Perhaps that might not be the best idea?" she suggested gently, eyeing the elderly woman. "We know how to fight as a team, and throwing another into the mix might make things a bit difficult." That wasn't strictly true either. They'd only fought together a handful of times, although it was enough for Elissa to become more comfortable with the flare of magic from Morrigan and with Leliana's singing. But she wasn't sure the old woman's heart would survive the lengthy battles the Knight Commander had suggested would be ahead of them.

Wynne turned stern eyes onto her. "Young lady, I was not born yesterday. I do realize what you are actually saying, and I assure you I am able to hold my own in a fight. I too was at Ostagar, if you recall."

"I know that," Elissa said hastily.

"And you will need someone who knows the Tower," she continued. "These battles will be fierce, Warden. My skills with healing will be invaluable."

"Much as I might wish otherwise, the preachy school mistress has a point," Morrigan admitted

"What of the children, then?" Elissa asked.

"Petra and Kinnon will watch them." She gestured at the other two adult mages. "If we slay all the fiends we encounter on our way, none will get by to threaten the children."

Elissa nodded slowly. "Very well – if that is what you think best."

"Petra, Kinnon, look after the others," Wynne ordered. "I will be back soon."

The woman, Petra, touched the older mage's arm. "Are you sure you're all right? You were so badly hurt earlier. Maybe I should come along."

"The others need your protection more." She brushed the concern away. "I will be all right. Stay with them – keep them calm and safe."

"What happened?" Elissa's eyes narrowed. If Wynne was injured…

Petra answered, her eyes troubled, "I was on my way down to the library when I heard screaming, and a demon came around the corner. Its eyes were afire with evil, I was certain it was my death come to me. I think I screamed."

Elissa repressed a shudder. She'd seen eyes like that once.

"I was so afraid. But then Wynne was there in front of me, shielding me. It was light and fire, blood and chaos. And when it was over, the demon was dead but Wynne wasn't moving either. I feared she was…gone. As I moved to help her, she stirred and coughed. I don't know what I would have done if she had died…for me."

"I was fine, simply stunned," Wynne patted her on the shoulder. "But thank you for the concern, my dear."

Petra got a determined look on her face. "Just look after her, all right? She might be completely fine, but maybe she didn't come away from that totally unharmed."

"I will try," Elissa said. "But I cannot promise anything. I can't promise any of us will come back."

"That is enough," Petra conceded. "Thank you, and thank you again for helping us."

"Let's get moving then," Elissa turned towards the barrier. "We're wasting time."

Wynne nodded briskly. "One moment and it'll be down then. Be on your guard." She turned to face the barrier. Her hands sketched a design in the air, leaving silver runes hanging in front of her.

Elissa tightened her sweaty grip on her sword, her eyes fixed on the barrier. Would something be lurking beyond it? Just waiting for them to step through before pouncing on them with all the force of the Fade behind it?

With a chime like the midday bells in the Chantry chapels, the barrier collapsed. There was a rush of warm air emerging from the doorway, but nothing else.

Elissa swallowed. "Right, let's move. Alistair, you and I are in the front." They were wearing the most armour; they'd be most likely to survive a surprise attack. Especially compared to the flimsy robe Wynne wore and the barely there costume Morrigan had insisted on, despite Elissa's attempts to convince her to wear something a little more practical. She led the way into the corridor, Alistair shadowing her footsteps closely.

"This leads to the library." Wynne kept her voice low but audible.

Leliana chimed in, "Do you know what we will face inside the Tower?"

"Have you seen demons before?" Wynne wanted to know. "We will see plenty of those. But it is the abominations I fear more. They are no longer human and are only driven by their lust for destruction."

"I haven't seen either before," Leliana admitted.

"I have," Alistair said quietly, with a little shudder.

Elissa was quiet, determinedly looking ahead of her.

"Elissa?" Alistair asked. "Have you seen a demon before?"

She was silent for a long moment. "Yes," she murmured at last.

Surprise was evident in Wynne's voice. "You have? I would not have expected..."

"Yes, well, I'm not what anyone expects, am I?" she snapped. Silence met the statement. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Wynne. I'm just on edge." Her nerves were wound tighter than a drum, as she waited for a demon to spring.

"It's quite all right," the elderly mage said calmly. "This is a stressful enough situation for us all."

Elissa nodded curtly. "Yes." A doorway loomed ahead of them, showing bookshelves piled high with thick tomes. She stepped through, and froze.

A twisted creature, once a man but no longer, loomed in front of her. Fleshy growths bulged along the arms and shoulders of the creature, ripping through the remnants of the mage's robes that still hung on the distorted frame. One eye was nearly completely covered by thick ropes of flesh twining around the head, and a few wisps of black hair hung down the opposite side of the head. Elissa's widened eyes fixed on it, and she was suddenly four years old again. She could feel slimy, unevenly thickened hands grasping at her upper arms, could feel the pain darting up her nerves and her skin ripping open as the rough grip tightened. She scrambled backwards, and her back hit the wooden door. She could feel splinters sinking through the silk dress, pressing into her skin. Ghostly hot breath blasted her face, bringing with it the foul odour of decay and vomit. She gagged.

Dimly she heard a male voice shouting something, and then someone was suddenly in front of her, shielding her with his body. Simultaneously, a bright bolt of magic flew overhead and a large dog leapt past her. A series of twangs echoed, and then silence.

The man in front of her turned towards her, and crouched in front of her. He said something. She stared at him, wide-eyed. "…Father?" He didn't look like her father, but her father would never send someone to rescue her without coming himself.

He blinked. "…istair. Are you all right?"

She stared back uncomprehendingly.

"She doesn't understand you," a drawling female voice said.

"I'm Alistair," the man repeated slowly. "Do…do you remember me?"

_Alistair_. The memories came crashing down. She was twenty-two, and they were in the Circle Tower. Her father was dead. And she had just had a flashback for the first time in fifteen years. In front of the group she was supposed to be leading. She said a word under her breath that would have made her mother wash her mouth out with soap.

"Elissa?" Alistair's voice was getting frantic.

Time to face the music, so to speak. She looked up at him, trying desperately to suppress the blood rushing to her cheeks. "I'm fine, Alistair."

He rocked back on his heels. "No, you're not. What in the Maker's name was that about?"

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again." She just hadn't been prepared for it. But now that she knew, she'd be fine. She stepped away from the bookshelf she'd pressed herself against.

"It looked like a flashback." Wynne moved in front of her, the mage's eyes narrowed. "Did it have something to do with earlier, when you said you'd seen a demon?"

Elissa swallowed. "I'm fine." She waved off the old woman's concern.

"That didn't answer the question," Morrigan pointed out. The witch circled the group to stand in front of Elissa, her yellow eyes piercing. "This is why my mother said you are scared of mages, is it not?"

"Elissa?" Alistair asked.

She'd never told anyone the truth. Her parents knew, obviously, and Fergus, and the group of knights who'd ridden to her rescue with her father. But the knights had never mentioned it to her, and even among her family the references were always oblique. Fear had kept them all from saying anything. Even Loghain didn't know. "Are you sure this is the right time for this?" Elissa said desperately. "We could be attacked at any moment!"

"And if we cannot trust that you will not freeze every time we are?" Morrigan said sharply. "You put us all in more danger if we have to defend you as well."

Elissa blanched.

"Morrigan!" Alistair hissed.

"No," Elissa said through numb lips as she looked away. "She's right." They deserved the truth, even if it was a truth she'd kept hidden for many years. And she didn't think any of these five would turn her into the Chantry. Morrigan didn't seem the sort to care about the Chantry's rules, Wynne had her own problems with the Circle at the moment, Leliana was hiding her own secrets and Alistair…well, he was the most likely candidate, but she hoped that the fact they were the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden would stay his hand.

"What happened?" Leliana rested a hand on her shoulder, ignoring the involuntary flinch.

"I was four," she said hollowly. "I was kidnapped by a pair of apostates. Maleficarum. It took my father three days to find and rescue me. In the battle, one of them turned into an abomination. He…used my blood..." She finally looked up at Alistair. "This is why I didn't want to come in here."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." He hesitated. "And the Chantry…didn't do anything?"

She stiffened. "They never knew." Her eyes darted to his face, searching for a sign that he was going to tell them. But the open face showed only sadness, and a sweet tenderness that in another world would have made her heart turn over.

"It is far too dangerous for you to be here then," Wynne said. "Greagoir would never have let you enter if he knew."

Elissa's lips pressed together. "I'll be fine. I just wasn't prepared. But now that I know, I won't freeze."

"It's not about that." Wynne shook her head. "The Chantry is right in that once a blood mage has gotten into your mind, you'll be more susceptible to it happening again."

Elissa flinched. "But he didn't control me," she protested.

"It makes no difference." Morrigan shrugged. "Using your blood to power his spells also brings him in contact with your mind. And with the abominations running loose here, there will undoubtedly be blood mages."

"I'll fight them." She would just have to stay in control of her own mind. She wasn't four anymore.

Morrigan laughed, the sound grating. "Do you think 'tis that simple?"

"It's part of the power of blood magic, Elissa. It can't be fought." Wynne gave her a sympathetic look.

"Is there no way to stop it?" Elissa demanded.

"There are ways to close your mind," the mage admitted. "But none that you could learn now in the time we have."

"Alistair?" Elissa turned towards him. "Is there anything you can do?"

Wynne gave him a surprised look, which he ignored. "No," he said slowly. "When the Chantry takes the victims, they don't normally…survive long enough for it to be an issue."

Elissa's smile was bitter. "Which is exactly why we never told them. If they found out, Elissa Cousland would have died in a tragic riding accident, I'm sure." He touched her arm, silently offering her comfort.

"That's horrific," Leliana breathed.

"Surprised? That your precious Chantry would kill even the victims of blood magic?" Morrigan sneered.

Elissa continued before anyone else could jump into the fray. "So if I can't learn to keep them out, what happens now? I can't go back now. We need every person we can have if we're going to win back the tower." As Alistair had said, they were Grey Wardens. This was their duty.

"It's too dangerous," Wynne refused.

Morrigan snorted. "_Pshaw_. She is right. If we're to save your mages and put them back into their prison, we will need all the help we can get. And if you send her away, you only have one actual fighter." A cold smile touched her lips. "Alistair is a Templar. He can watch her. The moment she seems to be losing control, he shoves his sword through her chest."

Elissa flinched and Duke growled.

"How does that give us the help?" Leliana demanded. "At least if she went back, she'd still be alive!"

"Because she may not lose control till we are almost at the top. And then we've had one more fighter to get us there," Morrigan said callously.

"I'm not going to do that!" Alistair barked.

Elissa swallowed, and straightened her shoulders. "Yes. Yes, you are." She walked up to stand right in front of him. "I'm not going back. And if some blood mage takes control of me, you have to kill me before I can hurt any of you."

Duke whined, but ducked his head at her frown.

"I can't kill you." He shook his head emphatically.

"Yes, you can. I'm expendable." She glanced around at the others. "We're all expendable. We need to fight the Blight. For that, we need the mages. And if I have to pay with my death, then so be it." She didn't want to die, but perhaps she wasn't as scared of death as she once had been. She would be with her parents then, not walking in a world where her betrothed had killed her best friend.

"Elissa-" he began, his heart in his eyes.

She winced inwardly and, despite the seriousness of the situation, she nearly groaned. _No, no, no_. He could _not_ have a crush on her.

"It has to be this way," she said gently. "You need me to make it up the Tower. And maybe we'll get lucky, and no blood mage will try to control me."

"Take heart, Alistair." Morrigan smirked. "You _probably_ won't have to do it."

He glared at her. "Fine. Let's go." He stalked off.

Wynne fell into place beside her. Her brow was creased. "This could be your life, you know."

Elissa smiled grimly. "If I backed from danger, we wouldn't be here right now, would we?" She looked at Alistair, who was that few steps ahead and quite obviously upset.

Wynne pursed her lips. "Is that why you travel with an apostate?"

Elissa sighed.

"I didn't say anything before because, well, as you said, the more people we have the better, but it's not safe to travel with her," Wynne warned.

"I know the Chantry says apostates are illegal, and must be taken to the Tower or killed," Elissa said softly, hoping that Morrigan couldn't hear her. "But Morrigan is not a maleficar."

"It doesn't matter. You of all people should understand that apostates living outside of the Chantry's oversight are dangerous."

Elissa flinched. "They are dangerous, yes. But I will not judge all mages for what two of their kind did nearly twenty years ago. And being dangerous is not a crime. We're all dangerous, Wynne."

"Not like an apostate is."

Elissa shook her head. "I am a Grey Warden, Wynne. A Grey Warden with no allies. I cannot be picky about who is willing to work with me. Morrigan is a strong fighter, and she saved my life at Ostagar, both mine and Alistair's. It would be a poor reward to turn her into the Chantry now."

Wynne looked unconvinced. "I'm not comfortable with this."

"That is your right," Elissa said quietly. "But I ask that you respect that Morrigan is a travelling companion of mine, and when this is all over, that you not tell the Chantry of her."

Wynne sighed. "Very well. I won't say anything."

As they climbed the stairs to the second floor nearly three hours and an assortment of demons and abominations later, Alistair shivered. "Brr, it's colder up here."

Morrigan's smile was delighted as they emerged in a large circular room. "Yes, you can feel the charge in the air, can you not? A great power has been released here." Her skin was streaked with dirt and dust, but her robes had somehow made it through the fights downstairs intact.

Elissa shuddered. The tingle at the back of her neck was even stronger now, and she dearly wanted to scratch it.

"You would be pleased," Alistair grumbled from behind his helmet.

Elissa heard something. "Shh." They all froze.

"…are we doing? Have you thought about it?" a plaintive female voice asked. It was coming from an open doorway on the right.

"We're making sure no-one disrupts Uldred's plan," a man told her. "I thought that was quite clear."

"B-but he's not Uldred anymore…" her voice trailed off. "I never wanted it to go this far!"

"Neither did I, but this is what we're faced with and-"

Elissa and Alistair exchanged glances. "Ready?" she whispered. A soft affirmative sound came from behind them. She met Alistair's eyes again, and then they charged.

Three mages inside spun at their entrance, their hands already moving. Elissa ducked a magical bolt, feeling a strange tugging in her stomach. The nearest mage sent another blast at her, this one striking her hard in the chest. Gritting her teeth, she ignored it and swung her blade. It ripped through his robes, slicing off one sleeve, and blood dripped to the floor. A blast of magic from behind her careened over her shoulder, and ice formed around the mage, locking him in place. Elissa slashed downwards against the ice, which shattered. The mage, his eyes already blank and dead, collapsed to the floor.

She whirled, searching for the next target. Alistair and Duke were engaged with another man, one who seemed to be faring rather poorly against them. Elissa turned then to the woman. White light glimmered around her feet, and she was casting haphazard bolts of magic from her tall oak staff. Elissa smelled the sharp tang of iron, coming from the hand stained red with blood.

She deflected a bolt with her shield, and lunged. The blade sank into the mage's shoulder. She jerked the blade free and swung again. The mage jumped back, and the blade only sliced shallowly across her stomach. The white light around her glowed, and before Elissa's eyes, the freely bleeding wounds healed. A bolt of magic slammed into Elissa's arm, and she couldn't stop the pained yelp despite the armour. The smell of burnt flesh filled her nose as she stumbled backwards, gasping for pained breaths.

A pair of arrows suddenly sprouted from the mage's leg, courtesy of Leliana. She heard Wynne's voice shouting something, and felt the pain in her arm dying down. Gritting her teeth, Elissa thrust again. Her sword bit into the mage's left forearm, and she quickly reversed her blade to sweep upwards.

The woman scrambled backwards, and her foot caught on the edge of a rug. She tumbled to the floor. Elissa took advantage and swung down.

"Please!" the woman shrieked, her hands raised in a futile attempt to defend herself.

Elissa stopped her blade a hair's breadth from the woman's chest.

The mage's eyes widened as she realised Elissa had stopped. "Please, please don't kill me!"

"The people you killed didn't want to die either," Elissa said coldly.

"Elissa," Alistair said slowly. "What are you doing? Are you—"

"I'm fine," Elissa didn't take her eyes off the figure on the floor. "Really. I'm still me."

"I know I have no right to ask for mercy," the mage babbled. "But we didn't mean for all this death and destruction. We were just trying to free ourselves. Uldred told us the Circle would support Loghain and he would help us be free of the Chantry. You don't know what it was like. The Templars were watching, always watching." She shuddered.

_Loghain_. Elissa gritted her teeth, and barely kept from shoving her blade down.

Wynne stepped forward. "But why turn to forbidden magic, Felicia?" her voice was sorrowful. Her robes had suffered badly on the first floor, and were now singed and torn in multiple places. Stray white hairs had escaped the bun and now hung down around the edges of her face.

The mage, Felicia, looked away. "The magic was a means to an end. It gave us…it gave me the power to fight for what I-I believed in."

"Fighting for what you believe is commendable," Wynne allowed. "But the ends do not always justify the means."

Felicia stared at her. "You don't really believe that, do you Wynne? Change rarely comes peacefully. Andraste waged war on the Imperium. She did not write them a strongly worded letter. She reshaped civilisation, freed the slaves and gave us the Chantry. But people died for it…" She swallowed. "We thought someone always has to take the first step…force a change, no matter the cost."

Wynne shook her head sadly. "Nothing is worth what you've done to this place."

"And now Uldred's gone mad," Felicia said bitterly. "And the rest of us are scattered, doomed to die at the hands of those who seek to right our wrongs." The plea in her eyes was obvious.

"I will not allow a blood mage to live!" Elissa snapped.

Her face fell. "But I…I want a chance to atone for my sins. Please, if you spare me, I could escape to the Chantry and seek penance for my sins."

Alistair snorted. "You know they'll never take you. They're very picky about who they let in. Harlots and murderers, yes. Maleficarum, oh no."

"The Chantry is very accepting of all people," Leliana protested.

"Except maleficarum," he retorted.

"If she can give back to society, atone for what she has done," Wynne began.

The blood mage looked up pleadingly into Elissa's eyes. "I want my life. Please."

"And so did the people you slaughtered!"

"It is fools like you who give the rest of us a bad name," Morrigan hissed. "I have nothing against blood magic, but against foolishness? I say kill her. Let her death be her penance if she so desires. She is just one more threat to you, Elissa."

"No, no, please," Felicia begged.

"Enough of this." Elissa shoved her blade down through flesh and bone and watched as the light faded in the brown eyes. Turning away, she met her companions' gazes defiantly. "Let's go."

"Why did you do that?" Wynne demanded. "She regretted what she did. She could have made up for it!"

"Nothing can make up for what a blood mage does," Elissa said flatly. "Regret doesn't change the deaths she's caused. Now. Let's. Go."

Leliana knelt next to the corpse's head, and gentle fingers brushed the eyelids closed. Her lips moved in a silent prayer.

Wynne shook her head sadly and turned away. "This way. Irving's office is just ins-" she broke off as they all glimpsed the three creatures of red and yellow flame in the hallway.

She had no time to panic. "Get back." Elissa shoved the mage behind her and darted out in front. "Go right," she told Alistair, as they watched the vaguely humanoid demons sweep down the corridor towards them. "Morrigan, middle!"

She didn't have time to see if they followed her orders, as she was suddenly desperately fighting her own demon. Each attempted blow, whether it hit or not, blasted burning air so close to her that she could feel her face drying out despite the copious sweat inside her armour. Duke lunged up, snapping at the demon's hand. She ignored the smell of burnt fur, and thrust again. Her sword bounced off. The demon looked like lava contained within a thin skin, but it was far more durable than she would have expected. Something that looked like a giant stone fist exploded in front of it, shoving it back several paces and a quick glance over her shoulder showed Wynne was responsible for it. She lunged again, and this time her blade pierced through that skin. Her sword sank into the chest, where the heart on a human would be, and the creature exploded, raining tiny droplets of burning fire down on her. It hissed where it touched her armour, but left no other mark.

Breathing heavily, she spun just in time to see Alistair helping Morrigan finish off the last remaining demon. Their harsh breaths and the creak of hers and Alistair's armour were the only sounds in the hallway.

"Everyone all right?" she asked, trying to conceal the trembling in her own limbs. She would _never_ get used to facing demons, or the rush of magic around her. Even if it was Morrigan or Wynne casting.

Duke gave a pained whimper.

"Wynne, can you do something for Duke?"

The mage came over, her robes looking a little singed. "Let me see." She reached for a familiar looking blue flask at her hip and tipped it back. Then she knelt beside the hound, and closed her eyes. Duke glowed faintly blue, and the burnt colour began to recede. His breathing eased. "There you go."

"Thank you." Elissa offered her a grateful smile.

Wynne waved it off. "It is no trouble."

Elissa glanced at her companions to check them all, and found no significant injuries. None of them were intact, of course, after three hours in battle on the first floor. But Wynne had healed the worst injuries as they occurred or shortly after.

"This is Irving's office." Wynne peered into a nearby room. "I half expected to find him here but…I suppose that's too much to hope for." The pain in her voice was clear.

"Were you friends?" Elissa asked quietly, stepping up beside her to peer into the messy office.

Wynne smiled. "We grew up here together. He came to the Tower the same year I did."

"We'll find him." Elissa gripped the older woman's shoulder.

Wynne remained quiet for another moment, and shivered. Then she walked back out. Elissa glanced into the room, and her gaze was drawn to a chest in the corner. Checking that Wynne wasn't looking in her direction, Elissa slipped inside. She made her way to the chest, and was surprised to find it open easily. Inside was an assortment of blue mana potions that she pocketed with a mental note to give them to the two mages, and a thick black book. A quick look through the first few pages proved it to be a book on spells. Elissa hesitated for only a moment before slipping it into her backpack. Any powerful spells they could find, which these had to be given that they were in the First Enchanter's office, would be of use. Perhaps Morrigan would be able to use it. She closed her bag and headed back into the corridor.

"…always go on and on about how stupid I am? I'm not stupid, am I?" Alistair asked plaintively as she emerged.

Morrigan smirked. "If you need to ask the question…"

"Because it hurts my manly feelings, you know," he retorted. "All one of them."

"Then I'll be sure to write you an apology once this is all over."

Alistair frowned. "I was educated by the Chantry. I studied history. They don't make stupid Templars, you know."

Morrigan gave him a disbelieving stare. "Then I must have been mistaken. I am very impressed."

He scowled. "No you're not. You're not even listening to me."

"My, you are smarter than you look after all." Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Your Chantry must be very proud."

"Oh shut up," he grumbled.

"Are we ready to keep moving?" Elissa interjected before Morrigan could say something. "Let's go."

The tower didn't have windows, so Elissa had no idea what time it was when they finally made it to the fourth floor. She winced as she took the final step on the staircase, her ankle still tender from being broken on the second floor despite Wynne's healing. Without Wynne, she was certain that one or more of them would have been out of commission by now. There had been far more demons and abominations than she'd expected. Thankfully, they'd only run into a handful of blood mages, and although that tugging feeling in her stomach had reappeared each time, it hadn't gotten any worse.

Elissa came to a stop, staring at the thick red and purple slime oozing along the stone walls. It climbed the walls like vines climbed a trellis, and spread unevenly across the floor like a web of thick, knotted roots. She shuddered.

"Do you get the feeling things are just getting worse as we go up?" Alistair regarded the wall with an expression of distaste.

"Tis most intriguing." Morrigan crouched beside a particularly thick vine. "Corruption not unlike the darkspawn. Perhaps they are related."

Elissa glanced again at the filth. Corruption, Morrigan had called it. It wasn't an inaccurate description she supposed. It certainly reeked of evil.

Alistair shuddered and turned away. "Now that's just unnecessary."

"T…this cannot continue!" Wynne was pale. "We must stop it!"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "That _is_ the idea, old woman."

"Shh." Leliana cocked her head. "I hear something."

"…time for supper, pet." The soft female voice was coming from one of the rooms a little further down the corridor.

"Yes, my love." That was a man's voice, only his sounded a little dazed. "What are we having tonight?"

"Roast boar, your favourite. And candied yams. It looks scrumptious."

That didn't sound like the sort of conversation two mages would be having in a Tower over-run by demons. Trying to move at silently as possible, Elissa crept down the hallway. Leliana was noiseless as she padded ahead of Elissa, and the two mages were also quiet, but Alistair's armour clanked, and Elissa winced.

The man's voice spoke again. "You spoil me, my sweet." There were the noisy sounds of a kiss. "How fare our children at their lessons?"

Elissa peeked through the open door, careful to keep out of sight. A naked woman with faintly purple skin hovered with her back to them, a pair of winding horns emerging from her head. Pressed up against her, and half-hidden by her body, was a man in full metal armour. A Templar, judging by the shape of the armour.

"A desire demon," Wynne breathed, her voice so soft it was barely audible.

Elissa gritted her teeth.

"Why not ask them yourself?" the demon teased. "Everything is just as you wanted, my knight. Our love and our family is more than you could have hoped for."

"Unhand him, foul demon!" Alistair strode into the room.

Elissa swore under her breath; he had no concept of subtlety. She hurriedly followed him in.

"Do you hear something, my love?" The Templar asked.

A purple hand touched his face gently, tenderly even. "It is nothing, my darling. Just the door. Put the children to sleep while I see who it is."

"Don't be long. The children will want to kiss you good night."

"I will be but a moment, my pet." The demon turned towards them, leaving the Templar staring into space. Elissa's eyes widened upon seeing the gold chains decorating the demon's naked body. "You are intruding upon a loving, intimate moment. I despise interruptions."

"And I despise demons," she said through gritted teeth. Her hand tightened on her sword.

"What was that?" The Templar's voice was raised as though he was calling through a house.

A gleeful look appeared on the demon's face. "Help! There are bandits at the door. They are going to murder the children."

A sudden rage filled Elissa at the words, and suddenly her sword was swinging. The demon jumped backwards, and her blade passed within a hair's breadth of the purple flesh. She was aware of the Templar shouting something, but it was overshadowed by the sound of metal on metal as Alistair engaged him. There was an explosion of magic behind her, and a second one above her. Her shield came up to protect her body from the rain of magic bolts the demon has conjured above her. Her armour hissed where bright blue bolts struck it, leaving black scorch marks behind.

Magic flared around the edges of the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Elissa saw a body she'd thought was dead lurch to its feet. Another glance at the dull, empty eyes and she knew it was still dead. The sound of shuffling feet behind her, nearly hidden by the sound of Leliana's bow twanging and magical explosions, told her there were more animated corpses.

A sudden, painful impact against her left shoulder drew her attention. Biting her cheek against the pain, she backed up, keeping both demon and corpse within her sight. And of course, the demon _would _be on her right, the side away from her shield, which would do the most use in protecting her from magical blasts. So instead she ducked another torrent of magical power, and fended off a blow from the corpse's sword with her shield.

Then, the demon opened her mouth. And screamed. Agony exploded in Elissa's head. She reeled and her vision swam. Despite feeling a fiery lance strike through her stomach almost simultaneously with a blunt thud into her chest, she wasn't able to blink her eyes clear. Her blade was wrenched from her hand and she felt the stone floor beneath her knees before she was even aware of falling. Then abruptly her head was clear, just in time for her to see a sword descending towards her head. A burst of magic above her head, and both demon and corpse were encased in ice.

"Shatter it!" Morrigan's voice was breathless.

Elissa scrambled for her blade and then to her feet. Ignoring the pain streaking through her body, she threw all her weight behind a single strike against the corpse. The ice, and the man inside, shattered. As her sword fell through the space he had been, the weight dragged her off balance and she stumbled forward. She recovered her footing, and then turned to face the demon. Even as she twisted, she heard the sound of ice breaking again. This time though, the trapped figure was unharmed, although vastly irritated to go by its expression.

Before the demon's attention could be redirected towards Morrigan, Elissa slashed upwards, barely missing yet again. She bit down on a yell as the muscle movement pulled at the wound in her side. Shifting her weight behind her shield, she used it as a battering ram to knock the demon off-balance. This time, her follow-up blow bit deeply into the demon's shoulder, winning a pained gasp.

A terrified shout drew her attention to the elderly mage, trying desperately to use her staff to physically fend off an axe-wielding corpse. "Duke!" Elissa shouted. The dog left off worrying the demon's heels, and streaked towards the mage. A rain of arrows announced Leliana's attention had shifted as well, and Elissa focused back on the demon in front of her.

For all that her opponent was not wielding a blade, its magical strikes were hard and fast and did not require it to be within arm's length of Elissa, making it all that more difficult to fight. It was tireless, despite the countless sluggishly bleeding wounds Elissa had inflicted. Elissa herself was tired after hours of battling demons, abominations and mages, despite Wynne's healing and a number of false strength potions. Her breath echoed loudly in her ears, and her fingers felt sweaty inside the gauntlets.

Suddenly desperate to finish the fight, she struck in a flurry of blows that she could feel aggravating her wounds. It took the demon off-guard, and it stumbled back before Elissa's attack. _Sweep left. Strike right. Feint left, strike right again. Dodge left._ Elissa whipped the blade around and thrust forward, almost surprised to feel the resistance of soft breast flesh giving beneath her sword. Dark eyes stared up at her, equally surprised, and then the light inside them winked out. The body vanished, and with the abrupt cessation of weight, Elissa stumbled and crashed to the floor with a loud clatter.

"Are you all right?" Alistair was the first by her side, concern visible on his face. The possessed Templar he'd been fighting was crumpled to the floor at the very edge of her vision, the blood stains spreading around him indicating he was dead.

She sat up slowly, every muscle protesting the movement. "Ouch." His hand was gentle as it supported her back.

Morrigan kicked over the corpse of the Templar knight. "Apparently you can get your desire and still suffer horribly. 'Tis truly a lesson for all who consider marriage."

Elissa would have rolled her eyes if she'd had the strength.

Wynne, bloodied and looking worse for wear, came to kneel beside her. "Don't move," she ordered. "You're bleeding internally." The glow was slow to come to her hands, as she struggled to summon the power necessary. Her normally grey-blue eyes were a startling electric blue, from drinking far too many mana potions in the past few hours.

Elissa let herself relax back onto the filthy floor. "The others?" The pain in her stomach was slowly ebbing.

"Alistair will need help with that arm and a few ribs when I am done here." Wynne eyed him disapprovingly. "But the others are all right. They weren't in the thick of things as you two were."

"All right, all right," Alistair muttered.

"Are you okay?" Elissa looked up into those electric blue eyes. Her stomach only ached powerfully now, and the throbbing in her shoulder didn't seem quite as bad. Her pounding headache though, had only grown worse, although maybe that was because the other pains weren't as overwhelming.

Wynne's smile was weary. "I will survive." She sat back on her heels. "I can do no more for you now. Not if I am to see to Alistair. My reserves are far too low."

Elissa nodded, immediately regretting the movement that sent her head spinning. "All right. I-" she closed her eyes for a moment to catch her breath,"-think we'll rest here for a while before continuing."

"A commendable idea." Morrigan appeared beside her, and held out a small vial of red liquid. "A pain-killer." Elissa took it, wincing with each movement, and knocked it back. Almost instantly she felt blessed relief spread through her.

Leliana offered a hand to help pull Elissa to her feet. The minstrel's eyes were worried. "What of the risk to your mind?"

Elissa felt her stomach drop. She glanced at Morrigan.

The witch shrugged. "Tis true that you will be more vulnerable whilst you sleep. But unless we are attacked or a blood mage senses you, it should not matter. And your natural shields will be stronger when you are more rested."

Wynne didn't turn around from where she knelt over Alistair's body. "It is not only you who will be at risk, Elissa. Both of us mages will also have to be on our guard."

"Pfft." Morrigan snorted.

"Then, let's find a place to sleep where there aren't dead bodies." Elissa screwed up her nose at the smell of charred flesh.

"There was a room back along the corridor," Leliana suggested. "At least, I didn't see or hear any demons when we passed it. Although it's a little messy."

"Anything is better than here." Elissa resettled the shield on her arm, and bent to pick up her sword again. She winced as she noticed the slight indent on the hilt of the Cousland family sword from where it had been dropped during the fight. "Come on, let's go set up camp."

"Wait," Alistair called, trying to sit up despite Wynne's insistence. "I can come."

Elissa shook her head. "No, let Wynne heal you first."

"What if you get attacked again?" he demanded.

"Alistair." Wynne's irritation was clear.

"We won't," Elissa said with a confidence she didn't feel.

"But you…"

"Lie back down, Alistair, or I won't be responsible for what I do," Wynne warned.

"Alistair. Please." Elissa met his eyes.

He subsided.

"You do know what that was about, don't you?" Leliana murmured in her ear as the three women and one dog emerged from the room.

Elissa sighed. "Yes. Unfortunately."

"Why unfortunate?" Leliana wanted to know. "He is sweet, and not bad to look at."

"It's not him." Elissa sighed. "He is lovely but…"

"But?"

"I'm in love with someone else," Elissa forced the words out, feeling them stick in her throat.

She shouldn't be. After everything Loghain had done, she shouldn't love him. She shouldn't still want to feel his arms around her, and his kiss upon her lips. She hated what he'd done, and even hated him, but she loved him still despite that. And even if she hadn't felt that way, Alistair looked far too much like Cailan. It would be like falling in love with her best friend.

"Ah." Leliana clucked her tongue sympathetically. "That does pose a slight problem."

Morrigan snorted. "Love. Foolish emotions."

Leliana ignored the witch, as she clutched as Elissa's arm. "We must gossip. Tell me all about your man."

"There's nothing to tell," Elissa said flatly.

Comprehension dawned in Leliana's eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was he at Ostagar?"

"Yes." It wasn't a lie, even if it wasn't quite what the minstrel had meant. Loghain had been there, he just hadn't physically died there.

"I'm sorry." The other woman squeezed her arm comfortingly.

Elissa pressed her lips together. "Can we not talk about it?"

"Of course. See, here's the room I meant." Leliana stepped into an empty room, with dozens of books knocked from their shelves and piled on the floor.

"Let's set up camp then." Elissa pulled off the enchanted backpack and set it on the floor.

_Maker damn you, Loghain._


	12. A Wish The Heart Makes

Title: Forged In Fire

Rating: M (for violence and language)

Warnings: none

Summary: Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

Disclaimer + Notes: Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers lilpumpkingirl and analect for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things. They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative or positive) are always welcome, and I do respond to each of them individually.

Also, I have some (bad) news for you all. As you may have noticed, this chapter took much longer to come out. This is because I've been struggling over the past few months to have sufficient time to write in this fandom (in addition to RL). So, from now until mid next year, the chapters will be coming out once a month instead of once a week. I'm terribly sorry about that, but it's kind of unavoidable. Hopefully after that, it'll pick up the pace again.

Quick query - are people actually enjoying this? I'm not getting much feedback so I'm not sure... I'll keep writing either way, but I was wondering whether people are actually reading it, or whether the hit-count is new readers deciding it isn't for them.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12 – The Wish The Heart Makes<strong>

_Where right meets left and left meets right,_

_Children run safe and free in_

_A pretty picture filled with gentle light,_

_And lovers kiss without fear _

_glass _

_The _

_ shatters_

"Mother!" A four year old whirlwind flew into the decorated living room. Maric had inherited his father's tall, solid frame and Elissa barely kept her feet on the thick grey carpet when the child barrelled into her. If she'd been in armour, she would certainly have fallen over.

Leaning down she picked him up and settled him on her hip. "Yes, Maric?"

"Cass won't let me play with her lute." The boy pouted, his full bottom lip sticking out. The green tunic he wore was stained blue on the right shoulder, and a hint of blue paint on his fingers told her why. "And she said I had dog breath!"

A slightly taller black-haired girl appeared in the doorway with her father's signature scowl. "You broke one of the strings last time. And you just called me a monkey butt!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

She was getting a headache. "Stop it." Elissa set her son down beside the low, intricately carved wooden table. "Come here, Cass." She crouched to look them both in the eye. "Maric, it is Cass's lute. And you need to learn to be more careful with things when she gives them to you. You have your own toy lute, go and play with that. And you shouldn't be calling her names." Her son's bottom lip wobbled.

"Yeah!" Cassandra put her hands on her hips and glared.

"Cass, you shouldn't call your brother names either," Elissa scolded.

Her first-born frowned. "But-"

"No buts." She winced at her own terrible pun. Thankfully both children were too young to realise.

"He started it," Cass complained.

Elissa shook her head. "I don't care who started it. Neither of you should be using names like that at all, let alone on your siblings."

The girl opened her mouth to continue. "But, Mot-"

"Enough, Cassandra." A deep voice came from the doorway. "You heard your mother. Now, I believe Alyiana is looking for you both."

Elissa turned towards the door as the children scampered out past Loghain.

He crossed the room to her side. "This just arrived for you."

She took the parchment envelope he offered her. The sun streaming in through the gold-draped windows gleamed off the green laurel leaf wax seal. She cracked it, and unfolded the letter. A quick scan later and she smiled broadly. "Fergus and Oriana will be here by the end of next week." She folded the parchment and tossed it onto the low wooden table near the couches.

Loghain raised an eyebrow. "Bringing yet another child to add to the noise."

"Oren is well behaved," Elissa protested. "Last time he was here, you loved him!"

"I meant your brother."

Elissa laughed. "It is not as though you do not relish the opportunity to duel someone other than myself and your knights." She discreetly tried to rub her forehead, where a pounding sensation was developing between her eyes.

"He has some redeeming qualities." Loghain's eyes were amused although no sign of it touched his lips. "But he acts like barely more than a child, and when he is around, you seem to degenerate as well."

Elissa laughed again, and reached up to link her hands around his neck and pull him down to meet her lips. His hands were warm through the waist of her thin silk of her pink gown, and she pressed against his doublet-clad body. After a moment, she pulled away with a smile. "Has Cailan contacted you since his last letter to me?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. But Anora's latest letter says they should be here before the tournament begins."

"Good. We haven't seen them since the Fourth Blight Anniversary." A thought tickled at the edge of her mind, and then his voice echoed in her head:_ This is no damned Blight._

Another voice, this one sounding remarkably like her, commented, _Duncan thinks it is._

_Yes well, you'll forgive me for not agreeing with that fool,_ Loghain's voice retorted.

She shook head to rid herself of the stray thoughts. "It's been four months. Aryan will have grown so much by now!" The youngest prince would be almost two by now.

"Maybe he'll have grown enough to stop waking the entire house up," Loghain said dryly. Elissa grinned, remembering the screaming that had woken the whole keep last time the royal family visited.

A voice she didn't recognise murmured in her head,_ Poor lad, he was so very very weary. You want to join us, don't you?_

Elissa frowned, wondering where the thought had come from. She didn't recognise the voice or the words this time. "Father can look after him again. He was always good at that." Even as she spoke, an image of her father's broken and bleeding body flashed into her mind. He was crumpled on the stone floor of a room she recognised as the larder in Highever Castle. _I dare not slow you down, my love_. It was like a boulder to her chest, and she couldn't breathe.

"Elissa?" Loghain gave her a worried look.

She shook herself. "Nothing." She offered him a reassuring smile.

"Elissa," he repeated. "What's wrong?"

She sighed. "I don't know. There are…images in my head."

Loghain raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Elissa nodded slowly. "It's like I'm remembering things. Only…they're things that can't have happened. I just saw my father die, for the Maker's sake."

He frowned. "What?"

"In my head. I saw Father die."

"Did you have a nightmare about it?" Loghain looked confused.

"I don't know." Elissa rubbed her hand against her forehead wearily.

"I'm sure he's fine." Loghain encircled her waist with his arms. "We just got a letter from him last month, remember. And Fergus would have said something in his letter."

"Yes, of course." Elissa closed her eyes, gritting her teeth.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know. My head hurts."

She felt a hand on the small of her back. Gentle pressure guided her forward, and she went obediently. The scent of lavender swirled around her, and she knew she was in their bedroom. The hard wood of the bedframe bumped the front of her knees, and she turned to sit down.

"I'll get you some water." Loghain's fingers brushed her cheek briefly, and then disappeared. She lay back with a half-groan. In the space of only a couple of minutes, her minor headache had developed into a full throbbing agony in her temples.

_Resist. You must resist, else we are all los-_, a woman's voice cut through the headache.

Without knowing quite why, Elissa's lips shaped a name. _Wynne_.

She felt more than heard Loghain's return to her side. She cracked her eyes open, and half propped herself up to take the glass of water he carried. "Thanks."

Her fingers closed around it, and a man's voice murmured in her head: _From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden_.

She groaned. What the hell was wrong with her head? Why was she hearing things?

"Do you want me to get Yelena?" Loghain looked ready to run for the mage.

"I'll be fine. It's just a headache." She closed her eyes and laid her head back just in time for the throbbing to turn into a blacksmith's hammer pounding against her skull. She opened her eyes. "Actua-" She cut herself off as her bleary gaze landed on the mantelpiece above the fire. "Loghain?"

His dark head appeared over her. "Yes, my heart?"

_My heart?_ Loghain didn't use pet names. He wouldn't even call her Ellie, like Cailan did. "Where is the portrait?"

"The portrait?" He frowned.

"Yes." Her eyes narrowed, headache forgotten as she sat up. "The portrait."

"What portrait?"

"Of Queen Rowan." The mantelpiece had a small potted plant, and the familiar assortment of portraits of herself, Loghain and their family, but the distinctive silver frame wasn't there.

Loghain laughed. "Why would I have a portrait of another woman, Elissa?"

Elissa shook her head. "You loved the queen. You would never go anywhere without that portrait."

"You are my future, not Rowan." He reached towards her.

She grasped his hands. "And when we got engaged, I told you I didn't mind that you loved Rowan first. That I understood what she meant to you." He'd been in love with his best friend's wife for decades. She'd known going into the marriage that a part of his heart would always belong to Rowan.

He shrugged. "I had to let her go at some point, beloved."

_Beloved?_ Her eyebrows shot up. First 'my heart' and now 'beloved'? "That doesn't sound like you. You never let _anything_ go. Loghain…what is going on? Why are you acting so strangely?"

"Hush." He drew her back down to the bed. "Don't excite yourself. Get some sleep, you deserve a rest. We will be fine without you for a few hours."

_Why do you fight? You deserve more…you deserve a rest_. _The world will go on without you_.

Her memory came rushing back. Her family was dead, Loghain had betrayed them. She was a Grey Warden, one of the last survivors, and she had been in the Circle Tower, approaching the central room on the third floor.

"_There is something inside there," Morrigan said suddenly, as they neared the door. "Something powerful." Her brow was creased slightly and her eyes were distant, as though she wasn't entirely present. She blinked, and her eyes slid back into focus._

_Elissa frowned. "What is it?" Her hand flexed around her sword hilt._

"_I don't know. It's not something I've ever felt before." Morrigan shook her head._

"_Wynne?"_

"_I can feel something." The old mage pursed her lips. "But no, I don't know what it is."_

"_Then we'll be ready for a fight." Elissa glanced at the others, checking that everyone had drawn their weapons. Then she put her hand to the door, and pushed it open quickly._

_An abomination stood near the centre of the room, thick ropes of purple flesh bursting through the ragged robes. He turned slowly, almost lethargically, towards them. "Oh look, visitors. I'd entertain you but," he sighed deeply, "too much effort involved." His robes swished to reveal a mage slumped at his feet._

_Elissa's eyes narrowed and she prepared to rush forward. "Who is that man? And what have you done to him?"_

"_He's just resting." The abomination shook his head. "Poor lad, he was so very very weary. You want to join us, don't you?" His voice was strangely hypnotic, and Elissa felt her eyelids grow heavy._

"_A sloth demon," Morrigan hissed. "Beware. It will put you to sleep." Her hands moved slowly, and a burst of ice sprayed from her hands. But it didn't go far, reaching only half the distance before fizzling out._

_Alistair swayed. "Can't…keep…eyes…open. Someone…pinch…me." His eyes were half-lidded._

_Her sword was suddenly too heavy for her to keep up, and the point dipped towards the floor. Elissa felt like she was moving through water as she tried to move towards the demon. "Stop it."_

"_This is ridiculous." Morrigan glared, although her yellow eyes were glazed. "You cannot expect me to rest on a floor sticky with blood." _

_A clatter of armour against the rock floor echoed through the chamber as Alistair collapsed._

"_Resist. You must resist, else we are all los-" Wynne crumpled to the floor mid-word._

"_Ho w dare you do this!" The words lacked any force as she struggled to keep awake. She could almost feel her knees bending._

"_Why do you fight? You deserve more…you deserve a rest." The demon made a strange gesture. "The world will go on without you."_

_Elissa's world blurred and then toppled sideways. She was asleep before she hit the ground._

Elissa's stomach lurched. She rolled off the bed and backed away from Loghain. "What the hell is going on? Is this a dream?"

"Elissa." Loghain looked surprised. "I think you're sicker than you thought. I'll get Yelena."

"Mother?" her daughter called through the door. "Is everything all right?"

No, not her daughter. Elissa didn't have children. The one child she'd conceived had been destroyed by that damned darkspawn blood. "Everything's fine, dear." She turned back to Loghain. "I said, tell me what's going on."

Loghain scowled. "Foolish child. I have given you so much, and you cast it back in my face. Can you not be content with the peace I offer?"

Comprehension dawned. This was all an illusion, and this Loghain was a demon. "The peace you offer?" Elissa demanded incredulously. "You offer a lie, taking my memories and twisting them in a perverse mockery of…of..."

"I gave you your parents, your lover, even children. Is that not a better future than any you could have now, fighting the darkspawn against impossible odds?" Loghain's eyes softened, and he stepped towards her, brushing his fingers against her cheek tenderly. "Elissa, my love. Is this not what you want? What you dream of, even now?"

Elissa was unable to keep from pressing into his gentle hand. The look in his eyes was exactly the same as the real Loghain's, that strange mix of love and reserve that always made her breath catch in her throat and her heart skip a beat.

She tore herself away. "Yes," she said hoarsely. "It is. But it's not real. Loghain betrayed me, us. He left Cailan to die, and blames the Wardens. As much as I still love him, I can't forget that. And my parents are dead. I could not pretend otherwise. Let go!"

"You don't have to remember." Loghain stepped towards her again, and she scrambled backwards. "I can make you forget. You can live the life you should have lived. With me."

"It's not real." Elissa pinned Logh…the demon she reminded herself angrily, with a frosty glare and resisted the urge to grab for a sword she didn't have. "And I don't want a fake dream. And I once swore I'd never let a demon control me! Let me go!"

The voice that issued from his lips weren't Loghain's anymore, but something infinitely deeper and more malevolent. "It seems only death and destruction will satisfy you. So be it! Have your war and your darkspawn. May they be your doom." The familiar River Dane armour shimmered around him, and he grasped a sword that appeared from nowhere.

She swore under her breath, and back-pedalled quickly, darting around the bed to avoid him. He stalked her, the blade extended in front of him. She ducked a blow that would have taken off her head, and slid under his outstretched arm. He shouted, and the door creaked open. Two guards burst through, bared weapons in their hands. They took one look at the demon Loghain, and then turned towards her.

"Blast it," she muttered, looking around desperately. She was unarmed, unarmoured and had three murderous demons trying to kill her. If only she had her weapons, or even just her armour!

Her skin tingled, and then suddenly she was encased in armour. Instinctively her hand went to her shoulder, still half-not believing she would find anything there. But her fingers closed around the hilt of a sword she would've sworn wasn't there a moment ago, and as she drew it from its sheath with a rattling sound, she recognised the sword of Highever. The sword her parents would never have let her remove from Cousland Castle unless all was lost.

The three demons froze, staring at her.

"That's not possible." The demon impersonating Loghain frowned.

The guard on the left shifted nervously. "She's no mage."

"How are you doing it?" Loghain-alike demanded.

"Doing what?" Without taking her eyes off the circling demons, she reached behind her back and slid the shield onto her arm.

"Creating your armour. The sword. Only spirits, and mages, can do that!"

Not bothering to answer, Elissa lunged forward, whipping her sword around to smash hard against the nearest guard's wrist. She heard an audible crack beneath the clang of metal against metal. Before he could do so much as scream, Elissa thrust the blade into the gap between helmet and chest-plate, hoping that the same techniques that worked on demons in the real world worked here, wherever they were. The guard slumped with a bloody gurgle.

A very familiar growl echoed through the room, and Elissa caught a glimpse of a furry body flying into the battle. Duke! For a brief moment she wondered how and when he'd got there, but then a descending sword caught her attention.

She jumped to avoid the other guard's sweeping blade, but in the process caught Loghain's sword on her shoulder. Her armour turned the blade, but she could feel the ache and knew it would bruise. Shifting her weight backwards, she delivered a front kick to Loghain's chest, causing him to stumble back. Taking advantage of the momentary lull, she pressed her attack on the other guard, slashing at his right side. Her blade was deflected and she hurriedly blocked another attack. She could feel the sweat running down her forehead, and her breaths were loud inside her helmet. She side-stepped left, sweeping her blade out in a butterfly strike to the right. A quick parry, and then she feinted right before going for a centre thrust. The tip of her blade scraped along the guard's metal chest-plate with a screech, sending him stumbling back. She followed up with a series of rapid chops, and lunged. Shocks reverberated up her arm as Log—the demon intercepted the strike.

Duke crashed into Loghain's chest. A long thin scratch appeared on the mabari's shoulder as Loghain's sword grazed him, prompting a low, vicious snarl. Loghain returned the snarl, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

Taking advantage of Loghain's distraction, Elissa pivoted and threw her shield into the guard's face, blinding him, and followed it up with knocking him to the floor. She rammed her blade down into the guard's chest, sliding between pieces of armour to pierce through muscle. The guard-demon convulsed once, and then lay still.

Something crashed into her helmet, and Elissa's world swam. Blinking desperately to clear her vision, she raised her shield to protect her head. She turned to face her lov—the demon. Her hands were sweaty inside her gauntlets as she flexed her fingers around the sword-hilt, and she gritted her teeth. This was just another enemy she had to kill. Duke worried Loghain's ankles, but the steel plate armour was doing its job in fending him off. She feinted right, and then slashed left, then desperately parried a return blow.

Her stomach tied itself in knots. She had fought Loghain in training, true, but this was entirely different. Now he was swinging at her with murder in his eyes. Although she knew it was a demon, and not Loghain, it didn't stop her from heart from flinching each time she struck at him. Even with her fury at his betrayal, she had never wanted his death, and it still felt like she was betraying him with every strike.

She danced out of the way of a blow, and then pulled back to circle him. Their boots thudded on the carpeted floor as they watched each other. Her eyes narrowed. The demon didn't move like Loghain. Where Loghain was sheer power, an unstoppable force, the opponent she faced was weaker but faster. She had once compared Duncan to a quick-silver snake, but this demon was even faster. Her armour clanged where he struck, setting her ears to ringing. His blade came up from underneath, and she swiftly parried it and then attacked in a flurry of blows, searching for a weakness. His lips were pulled back over his teeth in a snarl, and his blade sped up. Frantically, she defended herself.

The base of their blades met with a resounding crash, and the hilts locked. He bore down, trying to force her to her knees. She gritted her teeth and pushed back. Her muscles screamed, but didn't give. Despite being taller and apparently bulkier, he didn't have half the weight that Loghain had, or perhaps he just didn't know how to use it. She wrenched her blade sideways, hooking his sword from his hands and sending it spinning across the floor. As he turned to retrieve it, she swept her foot out to trip him. The moment he went down, she plunged her sword into his back.

His body jerked, and then lay still. She stared down at him, panting and trembling. "It's a demon," she reminded herself. "Not Loghain." But that was difficult to remember when she was staring down at a perfect replica of the man's body, dead at her hands. "Why, Loghain? Why did you have to betray us?" Tears burned in her eyes, and she blinked them away. "And why do I still love you?"

Duke nudged her gently, whining softly.

Absently she stroked his fur. "Thank you, boy."

He barked. Then he yelped, as he started to glow. She reached for him in a panic. What was going on? His body began to fade, disappearing into thin air.

"Duke!"

But he was gone.

Now what? Was there a way out of this world or dream or whatever it was, or was she going to be trapped here for eternity? Where could she find Duke? And the others? Even as she thought that, a shimmering glow appeared on the other side of the bed. She tensed, her hand tightening around her sword. Instead of the armed figure she expected to emerge, a twisted brown sculpture emerged, standing at about waist height. She eyed it warily.

It did nothing. Slowly she approached it. It still didn't react. Gingerly, she reached out, prepared to pull back at the slightest movement. The moment her sword touched the statue, light flared up around it. She barely had time to scream, before she was pitched headfirst as it sucked her in.

She tumbled head over heels through a tunnel of bright light and shadows. She glimpsed a dark-haired male face staring at her through the walls of the tunnel with a bemused expression, before it vanished. She slammed into something hard. With the breath knocked out of her, she lay face down. After a moment, she scrambled upright, searching for an enemy or threat. Her jaw dropped. She was in a twisted world of impossible things, of yellow-tinted earth that abruptly dropped away into thin air, of frozen ships floating upside-down, and sharp spikes spiralling up above her, and hanging over it all was a thick haze. In the distance, a black, shadowy city-like shape shimmered.

There wasn't a living soul in sight, but Elissa didn't relax. She still had no idea where she was, or how to get out of this place. Hoping to get back to where she'd been before, she touched the statue, but nothing happened. Sighing, Elissa looked down at the path leading off into the distance. If she couldn't go back, she had no choice but to go forward.

With her sword drawn, she headed down the slope. There was no noise at all, other than the scuff of her feet on the earth, and she shivered. It was unnatural, as though everything was holding its breath…or as though there wasn't anything alive.

Then, a murmur reached her ears. A very familiar murmur. She sped up. As she rounded the last bend, she spotted her quarry.

Morrigan was standing in front of her mother with her arms crossed and looking decidedly unimpressed. "Away! Away with you! I shall have no more of your pestering."

Flemeth pouted, a disturbingly alien expression on the Witch of the Wild's face. "I am your mother, do you not love me?"

The younger witch scoffed. "You are no more my mother than my little finger here is the Queen of Ferelden." She waggled the finger for emphasis. "I know you, fade spirit, you cannot fool me!"

Fade spirit? They were in the Fade? The world of dreamers? Elissa glanced around at the dead land. This was where humans and elves went when they slept? Suddenly, the demons earlier words made sense. Only mages and spirits were supposed to be able to manipulate the Fade. Not ordinary people. Or at least, that was what she'd been told. Elissa glanced down at her sword. But somehow she'd managed to summon, or create, weapons and armour.

Flemeth's face darkened. "Are you more clever than your own dear mother? Surely such pride must be punished." She swung back her hand, and struck. The sound of flesh colliding with flesh echoed through the barren wasteland. "There! That is for not showing respect."

Morrigan raised undaunted eyes to her 'mother'. "That is far more like it, but it is too little, too late." She glanced at Elissa, apparently unsurprised by Elissa's arrival. "Tis you at last. Come and rid me of this vexatious spirit. I weary of being prodded."

Elissa eyed the two women warily. Was she going to have to fight this Flemeth-demon, assuming it was one, too? Was she even sure that this Morrigan was the real Morrigan?

"She doesn't even acknowledge her own mother." Flemeth sniffed. "My heart, it breaks." Well, Flemeth was certainly a demon, regardless of whether Morrigan was. Flemeth would never have even pretended to have the emotions, from what she'd seen and heard of the witch.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Oh slay it, and quickly. Even the true Flemeth was never as annoying as this."

Flemeth's eyes flared with anger, and then there was a rushing sound in Elissa's head as the old woman cast a magical bolt. Elissa charged, hoping that Morrigan wasn't about to stab her in the back. Relief flooded her as she felt the wave of ice rush over her head towards Flemeth.

The spirit was surprisingly nimble for her apparent age, ducking and dodging each blow. No matter how fast Elissa struck, she was simply not there. Elissa could feel her own muscles wearying in the prolonged battle, already tired from the previous battle against the Loghain-demon and his guards. Magic flowed in a steady stream from Morrigan's staff, lashing the ground around her 'mother'.

Elissa backed off, giving herself time to gather for another strike.

Flemeth smirked at her. "Tiring, girl? And you thought you could take on one as powerful as I!" Distracted, she didn't notice the beam of light from Morrigan until it was too late. The magic surrounded her, encasing her in ice.

A triumphant shout came from behind Elissa, who lunged forward with her own cry. Throwing all her weight behind her shield, she slammed it into the ice surrounding Flemeth's chest. The force reverberated up her arm, making her teeth chatter for a moment. Cracks formed in the ice. Gritting her teeth, Elissa shifted stance and thrust her blade forward, hoping her sword didn't shatter against the magically-reinforced ice. This time, the ice smashed, and inside it, the spirit shattered.

Elissa slumped, breathing heavily.

Morrigan stepped in front of her. "'Tis about time. That was most irritating."

"What was that?"

The witch waved a hand dismissively. "Some spirit. Sent to control me by the sloth demon, no doubt. A pathetic one, actually."

"The sloth demon?" Elissa recalled the abomination that had put them all to sleep. "The one we met at the Tower?"

Morrigan gave her an exasperated look.

"Right. Okay. And we're in the Fade?"

"Obviously."

"Do you know how to get out of here? Or where the others are?"

"Why would I know where the others are? Though I'd guess they're probably trapped with a demon." Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "How did you get out? Only mages can sense the Fade without prompting."

"I don't know." Elissa spread her hands helplessly. "I just…remembered."

"We-" Morrigan cut herself off as her image began to flicker.

"Morrigan?" Elissa reached for the mage, but her hand passed through her as though she didn't exist.

"Wait! What is this?" Morrigan looked down at herself with panicked eyes. "No, not this again. I refuse!" With one last flicker, she disappeared.

Elissa stared at the spot she had been. It had to have been Morrigan, since a demon wouldn't acknowledge something strange was going on. But how did she disappear? Where did she go? Had the sloth demon taken her somewhere? Why hadn't Elissa disappeared like that once she'd killed Loghain?

And now she was alone again. With no more idea of how to get out than before. Elissa looked around herself. If she went anyway but back the way she came, she would fall off the edge of this piece of land. She frowned. Why was this place so much less realistic than the place she'd been in? There, the whole place had seemed as though it was real. Here, it was quite clearly not.

Pushing the thought from her mind, she retraced her steps towards the statue that had brought her here. There was nothing on the way that looked like it would help her escape. She stood in front of the statue, and eyed it. There was no harm in trying, right? Even if it probably wouldn't work. She reached out and touched the cool wood. Instantly, her world dissolved around her.

She landed with a hard thump, and groaned. Her every muscle was aching. She could hear the shouts of children playing.

"Hey!" a cheery voice shouted.

That sounded like Alistair. Elissa climbed to her feet and looked up. He was standing only a short distance away, beside a pretty blonde woman.

"There you are." The armour clad man came towards her. "I was just thinking about you…isn't that a marvellous coincidence." He gestured towards the blonde woman. "This is my sister, Goldanna. These are her children, and there are more about somewhere. We're one big happy family at long last." He beamed at the three children scampering nearby.

Her heart broke for him. A family. Just as the demons had pulled Loghain, her children and her family from her thoughts, so they'd pulled Alistair's desire for a family. With a mother dead as a child and a father who refused to acknowledge him, it would be natural for him to want a family. And now she had to break the illusion.

The woman smiled. "Welcome…Elissa, was it?"

Was there a specific way she needed to make Alistair remember? Morrigan had said that non-mages needed outside prompting, but Elissa had no clue how to do that. "Get away from them, Alistair. This is a trick."

He frowned, clearly not understanding. "What are you talking about?" Well, she'd hoped it would work but she hadn't truly thought it would be that easy.

Goldanna didn't look at her. "Well, Alistair, is your friend staying for supper?"

"Say you'll stay," he pleaded. "Goldanna's a great cook. Maybe she'll make her mince pie! You can, can't you?"

The demon smiled lovingly. "Of course, dear brother. Anything for you."

"She's a demon in disguise." Elissa gripped his arm with her left hand. "Leave her."

"How can you say that about Goldanna? She's…she's the soul of goodness." He frowned. "You're acting really strangely." He peered at her worriedly. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Alistair," she said urgently. "Think about this, and how you got here. Think very carefully."

He sighed. "All right, if it makes you happy. I…" He frowned. "It's a little fuzzy. That's strange."

"Alistair, come and have some tea." There was a note of panic in the demon's voice. Her forehead was creased in worry, and Elissa resisted the urge to send her a triumphant look.

"No…wait…I remember a…tower." Alistair frowned harder. " The Circle…it was under attack? There were demons…" He sighed. "That's all I really remember."

Relief swept through her. "That's when we got trapped in the Fade." She gestured around them.

"The Fade? Are you saying t-this is a dream? But it feels so real." Alistair looked around them in wonder.

Goldanna tsked, and glared at Elissa. "Of course it's real. Now wash up before supper and-"

"Something doesn't feel quite right here." Alistair glanced at her warily. "I…think I have to go."

"Yes. Come with me." Elissa tugged at him.

Goldanna glared, as a twisted, ugly expression crossed her face. Her voice dropped, becoming deeper. "No, he is ours. And I'd rather see him dead than free!"

Elissa was thankful that Alistair was wearing his armour as the demon's initial blast took him in the chest, sending him flying back. It was a stupid oversight on the demon's part, to leave him in it, but a boon for them. The three children morphed, suddenly becoming adult demons.

She made a quick decision. No-one should be made to kill even the image of their loved ones, or in Alistair's case, the image of the person he wanted to love. "Alistair, take the others out. I'll deal with this one." Trusting him to follow her order, she threw herself into the fight. It needed to be quick, before Alistair could think about it very much.

When the four demons lay dead, Elissa turned towards Alistair to see how he was holding up.

He shook his head. "Goldanna? I can't believe it. How did I not see this earlier? Idiot!"

"You're in the Fade, which isn't like the real world." She touched his shoulder. "It's okay. It can be hard to tell the difference." He didn't look convinced. "In…in my dream, I didn't know at first too."

"Your dream? Were you trapped as well?"

Elissa nodded slowly.

"If I… can I ask, what you dreamed about? I know it's personal but…"

Elissa swallowed, and said nothing. She couldn't tell Cailan's half-brother that she dreamt of living with his murderer.

He looked apprehensive. "If you don't want-" He tried again. "I was just curious. You don't have to tell me."

He looked far too much like a kicked puppy for her not to say something. "I dreamed my parents were alive," she said through stiff lips. It wasn't precisely a lie.

"Oh!" Alistair gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry." He looked down at his feet, and then visibly made an effort to change the subject. "Try not to tell everyone how easily I was fooled. Are we going now? Wait, where are you going? What's happening to me? Hey!" Lights swirled around him and he vanished.

"Maker damn it." She glared at the place he'd been. "Not again."

She glanced around. There was nowhere to go here either, without falling off the edge of the land. Gripping a nearby outcropping firmly, she leaned forward and peered over the edge. As far as she could see little islands floated in mid-air, with tiny glimpses of movement on them. Were all these islands regular dreams? Or were they all the dreams of people trapped here by the demon?

Shivering at the thought, Elissa turned back towards the statue. Hoping it would do the same as before, she touched it.

She slammed into the floor for a third time, wheezing. Crashing into hard surfaces at any point in time was not fun, let alone in full armour after tiring battles. The first thing she noticed was the silence. It was like she was back in Morrigan's dream, with the unnatural silence covering the barren wasteland like a blanket.

Elissa headed down the path again, hoping to find Wynne or Leliana.

The first thing she saw was dead bodies scattered along the path. Had whoever it was already worked out that they were trapped in the Fade? She sped up.

Wynne was standing alone, a faint blue glow around her. She was surrounded by dead bodies, which Elissa guessed were demons. Her shoulders were hunched and shaking, and even at this distance, Elissa could feel the misery pouring off her.

"-ker forgive me. I failed them all. They have died and I did not stop it."

Elissa blinked. What? Had she not killed the demons? "Wynne? What's wrong?

The mage's head jerked up. "Death! Can you not see it? It's all around us!" Tear-tracks marked her pale cheeks.

The dead mages scattered at their feet were insubstantial, and there was none of the ordinary smell of death that hung around real bodies. Wynne was still trapped in the dream, she thought she was responsible for the death of these mages. No, not just mages. One body was clad in the armour of the Templars. Greagoir's blank eyes stared up into the sky. Elissa's eyes passed over the tattooed face of a teenage male elf to a haphazardly sprawled elderly mage nearby wearing the robes of the First Enchanter. It was the result of the Tower invasion, Elissa realised. This was what Wynne feared would happen, a nightmare where both Alistair's and her own had been a much desired dream.

"You're in the Fade," Elissa said gently. "This is a dream."

Wynne didn't seem to hear her. "Why was I spared if not to save them? What use is my life now that I have failed in the task that was given to me? Leave me to my grief, Elissa. I will bury their bones, scatter their ashes to the four winds and mourn them till I too am dead."

"Wynne, there isn't anything to bury. They aren't dead." Elissa stepped through the insubstantial bodies towards Wynne, shuddering as coldness swept around her.

Wynne's eyes burned with fury as she turned on Elissa. "Your disregard for the souls of the dead strikes me as utterly inappropriate!"

"This isn't real! Think about what you're doing here, and why."

"I don't know what you are trying to tell me. Why must you make this more difficult? Do I not grieve enough without you rubbing salt into my loss?" Wynne glared. "And where were you when this happened? I trusted you as an ally, and you were nowhere to be found!"

Elissa flinched at the barb, sinking deeply as it did into the memory of her parents. Her anger flared. "I was fighting my own battles, not standing around and whining!" She took a deep breath, controlling herself. She pushed her anger, and the pain, away. Wynne was a mage, shouldn't she have been able to sense the Fade? "Wynne, you're a mage. Can't you tell this is the Fade?"

"Impossible," the mage said flatly. "I would know."

"Think, Wynne. Look at everything. Does it look real to you?" Hopefully the demons hadn't also changed what Wynne actually saw. Otherwise this was going to backfire.

Wynne glared at her, but slowly glanced around. She stiffened. "Now that you mention it, it does not. The Fade? I…had not considered that. I have always had an affinity for the Fade and I assumed I would recognise it." She nodded slowly. "It is difficult to focus. It is as though something is stopping me from concentrating. Maybe some time away from this place will help me think clearly."

Elissa felt a wave of relief. "That sounds like a good idea."

As Wynne stepped towards her, a tingle ran through Elissa's head. She snapped her head around as three of the dead mages lurched to their feet, no longer insubstantial but solid.

"Don't leave us, Wynne." The one in the centre held out her hands, pleadingly. "We don't want to be alone."

Wynne backed away, her face horrified. "Holy Maker! Stay away, foul creature!"

Elissa drew her sword grimly. Would she have to fight demons to win back every one of her companions?

"Stay, Wynne." Another of the demons reached for Wynne's arm. "Sleep soundly in the comforting embrace of the earth. Do not fight it. You belong here, with us."

The old mage continued to back away. "N-no, not yet. My task is not yet done…it is not time yet."

"Come…come away to your rest…"

Elissa had had enough. Without another word, she launched herself into the battle. The first demon was quick to fall, taken by surprise and skewered on Elissa's blade. Magic tingled over Elissa's body and she stiffened for a moment before she recognised the fading pain that marked Wynne's healing magic.

Gasping at the relief of aches she hadn't realised she'd gotten, Elissa redoubled her efforts. Her blade flashed through the haze, slicing through mages robes and into dead flesh. These demons were weaker and slower than the others she'd fought so far, and it was only a matter of minutes before she stood over the downed bodies that were slowly fading into insubstantiality again.

"Is it over? Thank the Maker for you." Wynne sagged.

"Are you all right?" Elissa took her by the elbow.

"Yes, I'm fine." Wynne shook her head vigorously, and then straightened. "My mind is clearing now. I take it you weren't trapped by the Sloth Demon then?"

"No, I was."

Wynne frowned. "How did you escape?"

"I don' t know. I was in the dream. My head hurt, and my memories came back."

Wynne's frown deepened. "That happens to mages. And you are no mage. Unless, the blood ma-" She shimmered. "Wait? What's happening? Where are you going?"

As she disappeared, Elissa didn't even bother swearing this time. She turned on her heel and stalked back to the statue. The vortex sucked her in, and then dropped her into yet another dreamscape. It hurt just as much the fourth time as the first time she was slammed into hard earth in full armour, and she could taste the copper of her blood from where she'd bitten through her lip on impact.

This time, the sound of voices and smell of Chantry incense drew her down the path. She crept along, and peeked around the outcropping of a rock. Still clad in her leather armour and carrying her weapons on her back, Leliana knelt before a Chantry altar. Beside her was a woman dressed in Chantry robes. Elissa's eyebrows shot up. A demon was impersonating a Revered Mother? Truly?

"Blessed art thou, who exists in the sight of the Maker." Leliana's voice carried the short distance to where Elissa stood. "Blessed art thou who seeks his forgiveness."

Elissa strode forward. "Leliana, what are you doing?" She kept a wary eye on the demon, waiting to see how it would react.

"Blessed-" Leliana's head shot up. "-What? Who are you?"

The demon-priestess frowned. "I beg you, do not disturb the girl's meditation."

Leliana turned and bowed her head deferentially. "Revered Mother, I do not know this person."

At least the others had all recognised her, Elissa thought grimly. "We're friends, don't you remember?"

"I'm sorry." Leliana shook her head apologetically. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The Revered Mother made a calming gesture with her hands. "Please, do not vex her. She needs quiet and solitude to calm her mind, and heal her heart." She glared warningly at Elissa.

Heal her heart? Elissa's eyes narrowed. There was some torment in Leliana's background then, or at least the background she could remember. And given that she couldn't seem to remember the Blight, it wasn't that. Shoving the thoughts aside for later consideration, she turned back to her companion. "Leliana, this isn't real."

"Isn't real?" The other woman looked troubled. "I don't understand?"

A tiny chink in the armour. Elissa pressed her advantage. "You're not one of them anymore, Leliana. Don't you remember leaving the Cloister? Coming with me to the Circle Tower? The Sloth demon?"

"Leav…." Leliana's eyes were distant. "Yes, I remember that. And you are vaguely familiar, and I find myself trusting you, as odd as that might sound."

Elissa glanced warily at the Revered Mother, whose face was betraying its increased irritation. "We can discuss it all later. We have to go now."

The Reverend Mother turned to Leliana. "This is your home, your refuge. Do you truly want to leave the comfort of this place behind? Stay, and know true peace."

"There is no need." Leliana's smile was warm. "I carry the peace of the Chantry in my heart."

The demon tossed all pretence aside. "You are going nowhere girl, I won't permit it!"

Leliana's eyes widened, and she stepped back instinctively.

Elissa stepped forward, protectively. "You can't command her any longer, demon. She is free!"

"No." The demon snarled. "She is ours, now and forever!" Her shape shimmered, and suddenly in her place was a towering black-grey vaguely humanoid figure. A Shade. It loomed over them both.

With a sharp scraping sound, Elissa drew her sword. "Leliana, get back!"

But her words were unneeded, as the archer was already running to get some distance between her and the demon. Elissa didn't have time to go for her shield before the demon was charging towards her. She danced to the side, and brought her sword down on its back as it surged past. A scream escaped its lips, and it whirled around.

Leliana's voice rose above the crash of her blade into demon-flash, and a sharp twang of a bow-string followed. Elissa dodged a magical bolt that would have blasted her away, and then sunk her blade deep into the demon's left side. Before it could recover, she whipped her blade out and pressed her advantage with a flurry of blows. A couple of them landed, but most cut through only air as the demon twisted to dodge each.

Elissa pulled back to circle warily. She took a deep breath, gathering her strength for a fresh attack. The demon slammed into her. The air left her lungs in a whoosh as she hit the ground, trapped beneath its body, and her sword skittered across the ground. Instinctively, her body arched, rippling in an attempt to dislodge the demon, and she brought her knees up sharply. Only, the demon didn't respond the same way a human did to a knee in the groin. Heavy fists smashed into her helmet, and she saw stars.

The weight on her chest was suddenly gone, and Elissa's vision cleared in time to see Leliana facing off with the demon, a pair of slender swords in her hands. Gasping for air, Elissa scrambled to her feet and lunged for her sword. Leliana was falling back, the demon stalking around the tiny island. Leliana was good, but even her sheer speed was no match for a massive demon that seemed to be able to cover distances in single leaps.

Elissa steeled herself, and then ran towards the demon's back. Even as the creature turned to face her, she leaped, managing to plunge her blade in high up on its back. Demon or no, there were few creatures that would not react to two feet of steel sinking in their backs and then slicing it open as Elissa slid down.

The demon hadn't even managed to complete its turn when it crumpled to the floor, dead. Elissa crashed to the floor again with a loud clatter. She struggled back to her feet.

"Holy Maker, she…she was a…" Leliana was pale.

"A demon, yes," Elissa said grimly.

"Oh my head feels so heavy. Like I've just woken up from a terrible nightmare." Leliana rubbed her forehead, and then looked up. "I believe we had some…task to accomplish. Let us be on our wa-Wait? What is happening to me?" In a sparkle of light, she disappeared.

Elissa didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Where were they all disappearing to? There was no-one else for her to 'rescue', what was she supposed to do next? Swearing under her breath, she made her way back down to the statue. There was no other sign of what she had to do next to escape, so it was her best chance. Maybe it would send her wherever the others had been sent off to.

As she scrambled to her feet after the by-now familiar vortex dumped her on the ground, Elissa's heart fell. None of her companions were here, but a tall mage stood with its back to her not far away. Almost in response to its thoughts, it turned and Elissa glimpsed its face. Only its mouth was visible beneath its pointed helmet, but it was enough to tell her the truth. This was no mage, or even a demon pretending to a mage. This was the sloth demon that had trapped them here in the first place. It wasn't any better looking here than in the real world, either.

A cold smile crossed its lips. "What do we have here? A rebellious minion? An escaped slave?" He laughed, the sound echoing and re-echoing around the island. "My, my, but you do have some gall. But playtime is over. You have to go back now."

Five swirling lights appeared in a semi-circle around her, and solidified into her companions. Elissa couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped her lips.

"Oh, here I am!" Alistair beamed at her. "And there you are! You just disappeared. Well, no matter."

Morrigan's eyes fixed on the demon. "You made a dangerous enemy, demon, by toying with my mind."

The demon ignored them both. "If you go back quietly, I'll do better this time. I'll make you much happier." He looked like he really expected them to take the offer.

Elissa snorted. Make her happier? He'd already given her everything she wanted, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't real. "We don't want anything you offer."

"I made you happy and safe. I gave you peace. I did my best for you, and you say you want to leave?" The demon pouted, and Elissa cringed. "Can't you think about someone other than yourself? I'm hurt, so very very hurt."

"You will not hold us, demon," Wynne announced. "We found each other in this place, and you cannot stand against us."

"You are awfully insistent on keeping us apart," Leliana said slowly. "You led us from each other because you fear us. Don't you?"

"Fear you? Why should I fear you, mortals?" The demon sneered. "You are all but cattle."

"Oh yes," Morrigan said dryly. "It's every girl's dream to be told she's a cow. I can't imagine why we aren't eager to stay." The sarcasm poured off her in waves.

"None of you were supposed to get this far." The demon whirled on Elissa, nearly spitting at her. "It is your fault, little girl. You with your ridiculous sensitivity and ability to alter _my _dreams! Why did they send you, little blood mage victim?" Then, a sly smile touched his lips. "And yet, even you believed for a time."

"Yes, I did." Elissa pressed her lips together. "But I broke out."

"Even you hadn't escaped, none of the others would have."

Morrigan spluttered. "I did not fall for your mind tricks, demon."

"Enough of this." The demon made a slashing motion with his hand. "You want to battle me? So be it, and you will learn to bow to your betters, mortal." The outline of his body grew indistinct, shifting and shimmering. His robes tore as he grew, doubling and then tripling his size. The ground trembled beneath his massive feet, and horns burst from the back of his skull.

Elissa fumbled for her blade and shield, cursing herself for not drawing it as soon as she landed. Alistair charged in ahead of her, slamming his blade into the ogre-shaped demon's foot. The ogre kicked, and Alistair went flying.

Elissa's eyes widened as it reached for a large boulder, easily hefting it. "Duck!" She threw herself sideways to avoid the projectile as it skimmed straight through where she had been standing, and shattered against the far wall. A cry said someone had been hit, but Elissa didn't dare take her eyes of their opponent to see whom it was. Hopefully Wynne would take care of whomever it was.

"Alistair, Duke, you're with me." Hopefully with three of them, the blasted beast would have his attention split between them. The other three could pepper away at him, as they would normally do anyway.

She dodged a grabbing fist, remembering grimly their only other encounter with an ogre and the number of cracked ribs she'd had coming out of that fight. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Duke lunging for the creature's hamstrings. Elissa slipped in under the monster's guard, and drove her sword into its ankle. Dancing out the way before it could kick her, she darted out of range. A burst of magic shot over her shoulder, and almost simultaneously, an arrow buried itself in the ogre's shoulder. Her head hummed, and Wynne's restorative magic washed over her. Elissa felt her strength, faded in the earlier battles, return.

Alistair shouted, yelling an insult that Elissa was fairly certain an ordinary ogre wouldn't understand. Clearly the demon was a little more intelligent, because it grabbed for him with a roar of its own. Alistair barely escaped by throwing himself between and through the ogre's legs. Shaking her head, Elissa ran in to distract the creature. As she sank her sword into its foot, and then ripped it free to leap backwards, it gave a horrendous scream and sank to its knees. A glance at Duke's bloody muzzle and Alistair's self-satisfied grin told her that the pair of them had hamstringed it.

Elissa gripped her sword, preparing to approach the monster and attempt the killing stroke. She halted as it began to glow. "Get back!" she shouted. What trick did the creature have up its sleeve now?

The ogre shrunk, shifting its form, and an abomination rose to its feet. Alistair rushed in without a pause, using his shield as a battering ram to knock the creature over. Duke leapt on the prone demon, his teeth viciously ripping into the body. An explosion of magic knocked them both backwards, and Elissa stumbled as the periphery of the magic caught her.

Regaining her balance, she closed in on it and slashed. The sound of robes ripping was satisfying, and it successfully caught the abominations attention. A magical bolt caught the edge of her chest, sending her spinning. She forced herself to a stop, and thrust even before her vision straightened. A bow twanged, and an arrow sprouted from its chest.

A crash of rocks against the abomination from one of Wynne's spells sent a shower of dirt and rock down on top of her. Coughing and spluttering, she surged up from beneath, and thrust her sword into the chest of the already grievously wounded abomination. It stiffened, choked, and then began to glow. Swearing, Elissa jerked her blade free and backed away, waiting for its next change.

This time, it was a fiery rage demon that emerged from the body of the abomination.

"This is ridiculous," Elissa muttered, even as she dove out of Morrigan's way. They had fighting these things down to an art form by now, even if this one looked stronger than others. The hum in her head intensified as Morrigan cast her spell, and a flood of icy magic surrounded the demon. It turned to ice, and Elissa charged in. She hacked away at the creature, aware dimly of Alistair and Duke doing the same, taking advantage of its inability to fight back.

Alistair leapt backwards. "It's moving!"

Elissa jumped away as though she was burnt. Normally they had much longer before the demon managed to break through the ice. She held her breath and ignored the heat burning her face, darting back in to engage the demon. Over its shoulder she glimpsed Alistair, his blade raised. She redoubled her efforts, holding its attention and giving Alistair time to do whatever he was planning.

The point of a blade suddenly sprouted through its chest, as it slumped to the floor. The glow surrounded it.

"How many lives does this Maker-damned thing have?" Alistair grumbled.

Elissa shot him a look. "Too many."

A Shade rose to face them, a malevolent grin on its face. Elissa felt, more than saw, the light of magic surround her, and then her knees buckled. She crashed to the floor, her sword falling from nerveless fingers, and stared up in horror as her muscles weakened. She could feel the life draining from her body. Dimly, she heard a shout. Her head roared, and more magic washed over her, this time Wynne's. The drain slowed, and then stopped. Or rather, as quickly as her life was being drained, Wynne was replenishing it.

Alistair slammed into the creature, Duke by his side. The spell ended abruptly, and Elissa staggered to her feet. Her muscles still felt like jelly, although their strength was returning as Wynne poured more magic into her. She picked up her dropped blade, and as Wynne's spell ended, forced her way back into the fight.

As she slashed and spun, she caught a glimpse of Wynne racing past her into a patch of blue crystal. She shone brightly for a moment, and as she turned glowing blue eyes on Elissa, the younger woman realised what it was. Raw lyrium.

A bright beam of light flew over Elissa's head again from Morrigan, seeming to have no visible effect. Another spell was quick to follow, and Elissa watched, half in horror and half in dark satisfaction, as Morrigan drained the Shade of its life-force. Is that what she looked like when she was under it?

The Shade wobbled, and then slowly sank to the floor. It was still for a moment, and just when Elissa was about to heave a sigh of relief, began to glow again. "Maker damn it."

"It's a demon," Alistair pointed out. "I think it's already thoroughly damned."

The sloth demon rose again, as itself. A skeletal, ugly creature hidden behind the pointed mask and robes, its smirk was cold.

Alistair screamed.

She jerked her head around. Bright beams of light encased the other Warden, rippling and bending with every arched, pained movement of his body.

Elissa dashed forward, and it was her turn to use her shield, not as a battering ram but as a hammer. Three times she struck the demon in the face with it, causing him to stumble back, and then she spun to plunge her sword into its heart. It dodged, and her blade sank only into its shoulder. She swore.

The mabari was there suddenly, jumping up in an attempt to knock him backwards. That too failed, but it did distract him enough for the spell, whatever it was, to falter. Leliana's arrows rained down on them, one bouncing off her helmet with a sharp clang. The others peppered the demon like a pincushion.

Wynne's strangled, cut-off gasp drew her attention long enough for her to see the old mage encased in ice.

"Morrigan!" Elissa almost screamed.

"I saw!" The younger witch's hands were already moving as she summoned fire to melt the ice more quickly.

Without magical back-up and with Alistair still struggling on the floor, Elissa and Duke were alone, save for Leliana. She threw herself forward, slashing and hacking with wild abandon. Duke worried at his heels, snapping and biting off chunks of demon-flesh.

Elissa's breath caught as pain swept through her, and she could see tiny sparks of lightning dancing across her skin and in Duke's fur. Fighting through the pain, she slammed her shield into him again, hoping to break his concentration. He stumbled backwards, and she chased him, ignoring the agony lancing through her body with every step. Arrows continued to dog his steps, and Duke took every opportunity to rip more stringy flesh from his emaciated body.

Finally, he tripped. Elissa leapt forward before he could recover, and thrust her blade through his back and jerked it upwards. Almost instantly she pulled back, and decapitated him for good measure. Then she scurried backwards to wait and see if he would rise again.

He didn't, and the collective sigh of relief echoed across the island. Elissa glanced around. Leliana looked fine, if a little singed from a fireball. Wynne had recovered from her icy capture, and Morrigan looked grumpy, as usual. Duke was bloody and limping, but licked her hand soothingly. Alistair had regained his legs, although he was a little shaky still.

"I figured it was my turn to get caught by something." He gave her a wan smile.

She stared at him for a moment, confused, before comprehension dawned. He meant the ogre that had caught her on the top of the Tower of Ishal. "It's not a competition, idiot." She rolled her eyes. "Are you all right?"

He nodded. "I'll be fine. Wynne's spells are wonderful."

Elissa opened her mouth to say something, when a flicker of light caught her attention. Another figure appeared, and she whirled on him with drawn sword.

The dark-haired man held his hands up immediately. "I mean you no harm."

She didn't lower her sword. Her eyes narrowed. "You're the man I saw in the tunnel."

"Yes. I saw you then, once you escaped your dream. But I never thought…I never expected you to free yourself, to free us both." He shook his head slowly in awe. "You defeated the demon."

"Who are you?"

"I am Niall, one of the mages of the Circle."

Elissa glanced at Wynne, who nodded, and then back to the newcomer. "How did you get here?"

He grimaced. "I thought I could save us. I led a group of mages to confront Uldred. But the sloth demon killed the others and trapped me here." He took a deep breath. "When you return…take the Litany of Adralla from my…body. It will protect you from the worst of the blood magic."

Elissa blinked. "Your body?

"I cannot go with you. I've been here far too long." He sighed. "For you it will have been an afternoon's nap. Your body won't have wasted away in the real world while your spirit was held in the hands of a demon."

"You'll die if you stay here!" Wynne protested.

"Every minute I was here, the sloth demon was feeding off me, using my life to fuel the nightmares of this realm. There is so little of me left." He looked away, but not quickly enough to hide the pain in his eyes. "I was never meant to save the Circle, or…to survive its troubles. I am dying. It is as simple as that."

"Is there no way-" Elissa started.

He was already shaking his head. "Thank you but it is too late for me. I do not fear what may come." His smile was brave. "They say we return to the Maker in death, and that isn't such a terrible thing." He glanced at Wynne. "My only regret is that I could not save the Circle. I'm not…a hero. Perhaps trying to be one was foolish."

"That's not true." Wynne protested. "You did a lot to help the Circle,"

"Dark times, greater acts of heroism, eh?" He smiled wryly. "You may be right. Before I was taken to the circle, my mother said that I was meant for greatness, that I would be more than my ancestors could ever have dreamed. I hope I haven't disappointed her."

Elissa swallowed. "I'm sure you haven't."

"Elissa!" Leliana said urgently. Elissa followed the minstrel's eye-line, and her eyes widened. The earth was flickering, fading and then becoming solid again.

"It's time for us all to go." Niall too was dissolving. "Remember the Litany of Adralla. The Circle is all that matters now."

"Niall," Wynne called. He looked up. "Thank you."

He offered them a smile. "Good luck." He vanished.

Elissa fell, and then world went black.


	13. Offers

Title: Forged In Fire

Rating: M (for violence and language)

Warnings: none

Summary: Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

Disclaimer + Notes: Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers lilpumpkingirl and analect for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things. They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative, positive and anything in between) are always welcome, and I do respond to each review individually.

Happy New Year everyone! Sorry it's a little bit late, I was out of the country :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13 – Offers<strong>

_Fingers of fire creep _

'_neath shattered shields;_

_Searching and grasping_

_Burning pathways into_

_the heart and mind_

∞ _page 33 of the banned book 'A Free Mage's Tale' by an unknown author_

Elissa woke, and the first thing she was aware of was a pounding headache. She opened her eyes with a groan.

"Did anyone catch the blacksmith who used my head as his anvil?"

Above her was the intricately etched stone ceiling of the Circle Tower. They were back in the waking world. She inhaled, and coughed. Yes, they were definitely back in the real world, complete with the stench of demon and spilled blood.

She sat up and glanced around. Duke whined softly as he pushed himself up, his fur bearing the marks of their fight in the dream-world. Her own chest ached where the demon had slammed into her. Alistair's eyes were dazed as he staggered to his feet, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. Leliana was already helping a tired-looking Wynne to her feet. Morrigan crouched over a nearby prone body that looked almost identical to the mage they'd encountered in the fade, rummaging through his pockets.

The witch straightened, a slender leather-bound book in her hands. "Here it is. The Litany of Adralla."

"And that will help us against blood magic?" Elissa eyed it dubiously. She'd been expecting something else. An amulet, maybe?

"The Litany is a spell." Wynne leaned heavily on Leliana's shoulder. Her eyes were glowing blue, even here. "It interrupts any blood magic that is being cast."

Morrigan glanced at the book, and then offered it to the older mage. "This is more your area than mine, Circle inmate."

Wynne took the book without saying anything, although the tightening of the skin around her eyes betrayed her thoughts.

"If we're going to have to fight this Uldred, can we do anything about the injuries?" Elissa nodded at Alistair.

"I will try." Wynne fumbled at her waist, and then sighed. "I am out of lyrium."

"I imagine mages don't routinely carry large quantities on them." Elissa turned to Morrigan, with an eyebrow raised.

The apostate sighed. "Very well. If I must." She tossed a flask to the other mage. "And you, Elissa. I have some poultices that can deal with your headache without troubling the healer. And the Sister's burns."

Shortly after, they were making their way across the tower.

"Uldred would have gone to the place where the Veil is weakest." Wynne pursed her lips. "That means the Harrowing Chamber."

"Harrowing Chamber?" Elissa exchanged a glance with Leliana. That sounded ominous.

Morrigan sneered. "Tis how the Chantry thins out the mages."

Wynne gave her a disapproving look. "It's the test that apprentices go through to _become _mages."

"Senior mages summon a demon to try to possess the apprentice," Morrigan spat. "Those who fail to resist, are killed."

Elissa stared at Wynne in horror. The guilty expression on the mage's face said it all. Elissa closed her eyes. "Alistair?"

He nodded slowly. "I watched one Harrowing, and was sick afterwards. It's why I was happy to leave."

"And the Chantry wonders why there are so many apostates." Morrigan tossed her head.

"It's up ahead. The staircase in that room leads up to it." Wynne gestured to the door ahead of them, clearly trying to change the subject.

"There might be guards in that room then," Alistair cautioned.

Elissa nodded, and drew her sword. She settled her shield on her arm, hearing the scraping sound as Alistair armed himself. From the corner of her eye she saw Leliana slipping an arrow from her quiver and setting it the bow, although she kept it pointed down.

She eyed the shut door, and then glanced at Alistair. "You want to do it?"

He grinned, and approached the door. There was a moment of stillness, and then he lashed out with a foot. The wooden door splintered, and then swung open.

Silence. Cautiously, Elissa peeked inside. The room was empty, except for a brightly shimmering tube of light at the foot of the stone staircase. Warily, Elissa led the group towards it.

A Templar knelt on the floor inside.

"Cullen!" Wynne gasped.

The man's head snapped up at the sound, and he stared at them with wild eyes. "This trick again? I know who you are. It won't work. I will stay strong."

Elissa stepped closer. "Are you all right?"

"The boy is exhausted…and this cage, I've never seen anything like it." Wynne frowned.

"It is fascinating," Morrigan murmured.

Wynne ignored her. "Rest easy, help is here."

"Enough visions." Cullen shook his head violently. "If anything in you is human…kill me now and stop this game."

Elissa froze, her blood turning to ice. He thought they were demons, abominations. Her stomach lurched.

"You broke the others but I will stay strong, for my sake…for theirs…" Cullen clutched his head. "Filthy blood mages…getting in my head…I will not break…I'd rather die."

She tried to recall the name Wynne had used. "Cullen…you're safe. I'm not a blood mage. I'm not even a mage." Elissa knelt beside the column. "And Wynne is here. Don't you recognise her?"

He glared at her, his eyes alight with more than a little insanity. "Silence…I'll not listen to anything you say…now begone!" He squeezed his eyes shut, and then opened them again. His brow scrunched in confusion. "You're still here? But that's always worked before. I close my eyes but you are still here when I open them."

The plaintive note in his voice almost broke her heart. He was barely more than a child himself, younger even than she was now, perhaps about the same age as Alistair. She made her voice gentle, remembering how her father had soothed her once she'd been rescued. "I am real, and I'm here to help you."

Cullen looked up gingerly. "Real? You're…human?"

"As human as you are," she told him reassuringly. Of course, she didn't know how much that meant anymore. As this trip had taught her, being a blood mage's victim left its mark on you, a mark that wouldn't ever go away.

He stood, reaching out a tentative hand. He flinched when he touched the blue light, and quickly pulled his hand back. "Don't blame me for being cautious. The voices…the images…so real."

"I know," she whispered, almost inaudibly. It was how they lured her away in the first place, planting images in her mind that she believed were real.

"Wait, how…how did you get here?" He frowned. "Did Greagoir send you?"

"Yes."

Relief washed over his face, quickly followed by anger and determination. "Good. Kill Uldred." Cullen's face darkened, and hatred filled every line. "Kill them all for what they've done." His voice rose, becoming a shriek. "They caged us like animals…looked for ways to break us." He stopped, breathing heavily. "I'm the only one left. They turned some into…monsters. And…there was nothing I could do."

Wynne cleared her throat. "Where are Irving and the other mages? Do you know?"

"What others? What are you talking about?"

"Irving, and the other mages who fought Uldred. Where are they?" she asked patiently.

He covered his face with his hands. "They are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming out from there…oh Maker…" His voice choked.

There was only silence from the room above now, but Wynne turned towards Elissa. "We must hurry. They are in grave danger, I am sure of it." Her worry was reflected in her eyes, and Elissa nodded.

Cullen's head snapped up. "You can't save them. You don't know what they've become!"

"I don't understand." Alistair glanced at them all, and then back to Cullen. "What are you afraid of?"

Elissa knew. It was the same reason she had avoided mages for all these years. The same fears that lingered in her mind then, and even now, despite travelling with Morrigan.

"They've been surrounded b-by blood mages." Cullen pressed his hands against his cage, taking no notice of the smell of burning flesh filled the air. "Whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts." His eyes were crazed, and he didn't even seem to notice the pain.

"His hatred of mages is so intense…" Alistair's voice held a little bit of awe. "The memory of his friends' death is still fresh in his mind…" He looked away, his eyes distant.

Wynne's face was sad. "He's suffered pain and anguish like few have had to endure." She sighed. "That, together with his lust for revenge, have confused the issue."

The Templar snarled. "Do not presume to judge me, mage. I am thinking clearly – for perhaps the first time in my life!"

Elissa held her hand up. "What do you propose we do?"

"To ensure this horror is ended, to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages survive, you must kill everyone up there," he said flatly.

Wynne caught her breath audibly.

Elissa's eyes widened. That was what they'd come in to prevent. Otherwise, it would be just the same as waiting for Greagoir to enact the Rite of Annulment. But to say that to this boy, who'd already undergone so much trauma…"I cannot decide on that before I see what is going on."

He scowled. "That is your choice to make, but I beg you to consider what I have to say. You cannot tell maleficarum by sight. They look like any other mage, unless they want to. And just one could influence the mind of a King, or a Grand Cleric."

"I will not have the blood of innocents on my hands." Or, Elissa thought grimly, more innocent blood. The blood that already stained her hands was more than enough to be going with.

Cullen growled. "I am just willing to see the painful truth which you are willing to ignore!" He sagged backwards. "But what can I do? As you can see, I am in no position to directly influence your actions, though I would dearly love to deal with the mages myself."

She had no doubt he did. Elissa thought back to those early days just after her rescue. She had only been four, and hadn't known enough to want to kill the mages for her suffering. But if she'd been older, old enough to actually understand and to want something other than her father to protect her, maybe she would have reacted as Cullen did. Inwardly she resolved that he would not get any say in what happened later, if she could prevent it. He was blinded by his own suffering, and while it was understandable, it meant he was hardly an objective judge of whether a mage was a blood mage or not.

"Is there a way to free you?" Leliana stepped forward, her eyes compassionate.

Wynne shook her head. "I cannot undo this spell. There is too much power behind it. Demonic power."

"My cage is Uldred's doing, or one of his mages," he spat. "When they are dead, I will be free."

"Stay safe then, it will be over soon." Elissa gestured for her companions to move towards the stone staircase leading up.

"No-one ever listens, not until it is far too late." Cullen glared at her. "Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion has not doomed us all."

Elissa slipped to Wynne's side. "Are you going to be all right to come up with us to the Chamber? I mean, after your dream, and with the mages up there…" Could she handle potentially having to kill the mages she had mourned in the Fade?

"I will be fine." Her smile was reassuring. "It will be difficult, but I will do my duty." She paused. "Thank you for taking me from that."

"It's fine." Elissa waved off the thanks, and then hurried to join Alistair at the front of the little group. "Are we all ready? Leliana, can you keep an eye on Wynne. She has the Litany, so we have to keep them off her so she can use it. Shout if you need help."

The archer nodded. "Of course."

This was going to be a sensitive operation, with timing an all-important key. The others she could trust to react logically, but Duke…Elissa crouched in front of her mabari. "Duke." She waited for him to look at her. "If I'm hurt, or attacked, you only attack when Alistair does."

He whined. That wasn't what he was trained to do. He had been taught to obey her commands while she was conscious, and to guard her when she wasn't.

"I mean it." She held the brown gaze.

At length, Duke ducked his head, and she patted it before rising. "Alistair. Uldred is up there, and he's supposed to be more powerful than the others. If he takes control of me, you have to kill me."

He glowered at her. "This is stupid," he muttered.

Elissa pursed her lips. "Alistair."

"If he doesn't," Morrigan drawled. "I will."

The ex-templar glared at her. "I'll do it. Damn it."

Elissa ignored his mutinous expression. "Right, let's do this." She set her hand to the heavy iron bolt and pushed forward. Unlocked, it swung open easily.

Elissa's first impression was of stone and intricate carvings barely visible beneath the filth-caked walls. Then her attention was drawn to the two abominations standing on either side of a jerking, writhing mage, and a tall, bald mage stood opposite them, with his back towards the door. The stench of sweat, blood and urine filled the air, overlaid by the increasingly familiar smell of the corrupted purple filth coating the walls. As they watched, the kneeling mage on the floor warped and shifted, and moments later an abomination stood in its place.

Elissa's stomach threatened to rebel. She'd seen that happen only once before, and it was something she had hoped never to see again.

The bald mage turned towards the door, a wide smile on his face. "Ah, look what we have here. An intruder. Care to join in our…revels?"

With a start, she recognised the mage as the man talking to Loghain that night in Ostagar. She swallowed her surprise. "I take it you're Uldred."

"Oh, very observant. I confess, I am quite impressed you are still alive. As I always said, if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself." He glanced at them all and laughed. "My, you are a powerful bunch though, aren't you? Wynne, an apostate, a Templar, and….a former victim. And it wasn't even one of my mages. Well, well, well."

Elissa's jaw dropped. "H-how can you tell?"

He chuckled. "Tis a simple thing to see the Fade ripple around you, girl. And even simpler to…"

She barely had enough time to feel a strong tug in her stomach region, before her head exploded in pain. Dimly she registered a sharp pain in her knees that faded to insignificance against the agony in her head. Someone was screaming, and another voice was overlaid on top of it.

Then it ended abruptly, and she was on the floor, gasping. Wynne's chanting died away. Duke was snarling beside her, his entire body quivering, straining towards Uldred. But he hadn't attacked, obeying her earlier command despite it being obvious he wanted nothing more than to rend Uldred's neck in half. Elissa's throat ached. It had been her screaming. She tasted blood. A hand touched her shoulder, and she flinched. It withdrew, and Alistair's face appeared in front of her.

"You're a blood mage!" Wynne's voice was furious.

"Are you all right?" Alistair demanded softly.

She glared at him. "You should have killed me." She reached for her sword and shield, before leaning heavily on his arms to rise. "If he could hurt me that much, he was in control of my brain."

"You survived without hurting anyone," Alistair said stubbornly. "Wynne ended it."

"Mmm. And you carry the Litany of Adralla to spoil my fun." Uldred still sounded amused. "I am surprised you let the girl accompany you, Wynne. You had to know she was more vulnerable to my kind than the others. Though, her presence certainly explains your escape from the sloth demon downstairs."

Elissa straightened her spine and stepped away from Alistair's support. "I got this far and none of your other blood mages succeeded."

"Truly? Their skills were not what I hoped then. I suppose you killed my servants?" He smirked. "Ah well, they are probably better of dying in the service of their betters than living with the terrible responsibility of independence." He shook his head in mock sadness.

"You're turning these people into abominations!" Alistair burst out, his eyes fixed on the newest demon.

"And freeing them in the process, Templar boy!" Uldred's eyes were alight with fanaticism. "A mage is but a larval form of something much greater. Your Chantry vilifies this, calls us abominations, when really we have really achieved our true potential."

Us? Her eyes widened. Uldred was an abomination as well?

He waved his hand at a group of bound mages on the floor that Elissa hadn't noticed before. "Look at them. The Chantry has them convinced. They are denying themselves the pleasure of becoming something glorious!"

"You're mad," Wynne said flatly. "There's nothing glorious about what you've become, Uldred! Abominations! This goes against everything we know."

His laugh echoed off the walls, reverberating and sending chills down Elissa's spine. "Uldred? He is gone. I am Uldred, and yet not Uldred. I am more than he was. I could give you this gift, Wynne. You and all mages. It would be so much easier if you just accepted it. But some people can be so stubborn."

Wynne's eyes flashed."Of course they are! You're trying to destroy their lives, our lives."

The abomination threw its hands up in the air. "Resistance! Everywhere I go, resistance. How very inconsiderate." Then he smiled slyly. "Though, I have the First Enchanter on my side, don't I…Irving?"

Elissa spun towards the group of bound mages, even as Wynne gasped.

"What have you done to him?" the older mage demanded. There was a note of fear mixed with something else in her voice.

A grey-haired mage lifted his head slowly, revealing a face marked with bruises and cuts. "Stop him…he…is building an army. He will…destroy the Templars and-" A bright bolt of red-orange fire crashed into his chest, cutting him off, and he slumped, gasping heavily.

Wynne started forward, almost involuntarily. "Irving!"

Uldred frowned as he shook out a hand. "You're a sly fox, Irving, telling on me like that." He added conversationally, "And here I thought he was starting to turn."

The old mage raised his head weakly. "N-never!"

Uldred whirled. "That's enough out of you Irving." Another bolt of power, this one blue-white with ice, left his hands. Before it had even hit, Uldred was turning back towards them. "He'll serve me eventually, as will you…" His dark eyes fixed on Elissa. "All of you."

Elissa snarled. "No I won't. I'd rather die!"

"Killing you would be a waste." He stepped forward, gesticulating wildly. "Your raw potential, with the power of a demon behind it, would be unstoppable. You've already tasted the skills that come with connection to the Fade. Imagine that magnified a hundred-fold. I can do that – I can give you power and a new life."

"I've already had one 'new' life, and I don't need another one," Elissa snapped. "I'd rather die than serve you!" She flexed her hand around the sword, slowly shifting her weight. This would obviously end in a fight.

"I don't think your opinion matters," he spat. "That is what I have decided and that is what will be done." A cruel smile touched his lips. "Fight, if you must. It will simply make my victory all the sweeter."

He exploded upwards, and a pulse of energy knocked them all to the floor. Elissa scrambled upright, to see a massive spiked monster towering over them where Uldred had stood. It was much bigger even than the ogres they'd fought before. The three 'normal' abominations—if there were such a thing—were stalking towards them.

"Oh shit." Alistair stood beside her. "A Pride Demon."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Let's do this." She charged in, her boots clanging against the stone floor in synch with Alistair's, and louder than the pads of Duke's paws. "Die, you Maker-damned bastard!"

The back of her head hummed, and ice flared around her blade, encasing it. Morrigan dashed past them, towards one of the smaller demons.

Leliana's voice rose above the sickly squish of steel cutting into resistant demon flesh. The abomination that had once been Uldred didn't even seem to notice the blades hacking into its legs, leaving shallow cuts.

"Do you accept the gift I offer?"

Elisse glimpsed white light surrounding one of the mages on the far side of the room. "Wynne!"

The old mage's voice cut through the sounds, chanting words that Elissa couldn't understand.

Alistair's face was a mask of concentration, and then power exploded from his hands. It struck the abomination. It was not the first time in the past two days Elissa had seen his Templar abilities in action, but it never failed to astonish her. Uldred staggered as if wounded, though no injury was visible.

"Elissa!" Leliana's scream drew her attention. An approaching abomination was heading for Wynne, and Leliana's bow was doing little to stop it.

"Hold him," Elissa snapped to Alistair and Duke, and then raced across the floor. "Morrigan!"

Ice swirled, and solidified for a moment around the abomination. It held him only for a moment, but it was enough to give Elissa the time to get between the mage and it. She slammed her shield into its face, and then plunged her blade low, into its gut. Leliana drove a pair of short blades into its shoulders from behind. Elissa had seen Leliana carry them, but the minstrel had never used them before. She'd never needed to.

Elissa yanked her blade free and decapitated the creature. Wynne's voice died away, and a quick glance at the bound mages revealed the white light gone.

Morrigan was just turning away from another dead abomination, peppered with Leliana's arrows, and angling for the third. Alistair's left arm was held limply at his side, his shield useless. His armour was black with soot, most likely from a fire-spell. Duke also looked singed, but was biting just as viciously as ever. Trusting the witch to deal with the lesser abomination herself, Elissa threw herself into the fight against Uldred. Her sword flashed, glinting in the mage lights floating around the room.

A long, thick arm swept out, catching her off-guard. She felt her ribs crack, and then she went flying. Anticipating the impact, she shed her shield and braced herself. She crashed against the far wall, and slid to the ground, pain sparking along her bones. The sound of metal on stone nearby was her shield clattering to the floor. Magic surrounded her, and she could feel her ribs knitting together.

Gritting her teeth against the uncomfortable feeling of moving bone, she ran forward again grasping her shield, just in time to be thrown back again as a ring of fire exploded from the abomination. She grunted as she hit the floor, but her ribs held, thankfully. The stench of burning leather filled the air around her. She glanced down to hoist herself to her feet, and swore. She hastily banged her hand against her side. One of the breast-plate straps had caught fire, and was burning merrily.

"And what of you? Do you accept my gift?"

This time, Elissa didn't even have to shout. Wynne was already chanting the Litany before Uldred finished his sentence. Elissa squished out the flames as best she could, and then staggered to her feet. She looked at Alistair, on the other side of the room. This wasn't working. Uldred didn't seem to be weakening at all, but they weren't going to be able to keep it up forever.

Morrigan was there suddenly, ducking in close to throw a spell at point blank rage. The abomination staggered, disoriented.

"Alistair!" the witch shouted.

He stared back at her blankly for a moment, and then comprehension dawned. He threw his hands out, and a Holy Smite struck the already disoriented Uldred full-on. Morrigan was caught in the fringes of the strike and stumbled as her mana was sucked away.

As soon as the abomination's back was to her, Elissa broke into a run. Shifting her grip on her blade so it pointed straight down, she leaped. Her blade plunged into its back, and held. An unearthly roar made the flesh vibrate beneath her as she clung like a limpet. A fall from this height would not be fun. One sharp spike pressed into her chest, slipping under her breast plate, and she could feel warmth dripping down.

"Elissa!"

She didn't dare take her eyes off the rippling neck long enough to look at Alistair. A familiar growl filled the air, and then the abomination staggered again. Elissa jolted as he crashed to his knees on the floor, and her grip slipped. She tumbled to the floor with a crash. Alistair lunged between her and the creature, hacking away. Duke, having hamstrung one leg, was working on the other. Leliana's bow twanged, and a trio of deeply buried arrows sprouted from shoulder muscles.

A weak energy surged pulsed out from the injured abomination, knocking them back a pace but not over. Uldred made a final struggle to his feet, but failed. Alistair's arms rose and brought his blade down with all his strength, cutting half-way through the demon's neck. Magic swirled around the wound, and the light in the creature's eyes died.

Their harsh breathing was the only sound in the chamber. Elissa closed her eyes, slumping back. It was over. She'd made it through the tower, alive and mentally intact. Alistair hadn't been forced to kill her.

"Thank the Maker," Leliana murmured.

Elissa forced her eyes open, and climbed to her feet. She braced a foot against the dead body, and pulled her sword out with a sucking sound that made her stomach churn. It was drenched in blood, and she bent to wipe it off against a ragged strip of the abomination's robes before sliding it back into the sheath.

"Irving!" Wynne hurriedly crossed the floor to the First Enchanter's side. "Are you all right?" Her hands were gentle as she reached for him. Her hands glowed softly blue, her healing magic surrounding Irving and then spreading out along the other mages.

"Maker, I'm too old for this." He pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on her arm. "I've….ngh…been better. But I am thankful to be alive. I suppose that is your doing, isn't it, Wynne?" He smiled at her affectionately.

"I was not alone. I had help."

"Ah yes, the blood mage's victim." Irving's face was inscrutable as he pulled away from Wynne.

Elissa stiffened. She'd forgotten the other mages had been here for Uldred's conversation. Was he going to turn her in to the Chantry? Her knuckles turned white on her sword hilt. Alistair moved silently to her shoulder, his face challenging. Duke was already by her side, half-crouched. Leliana casually strolled towards them, although her eyes were wary. Morrigan didn't even bother to try to hide her thoughts as she too approached.

Wynne glanced at them, and then back at the First Enchanter. "Irving…"

"Hmm?"

"You're not going to tell the Chantry, are you?" Wynne hurried on. "We owe-"

He looked surprised. "Of course not." Irving glanced back at the other mages, all in various states of injury. "The Circle owes you a debt we will never be able to repay. None of us here will speak of it." He waited for the murmur of agreement from each of the other mages, and then continued. "I was merely thinking. Most with your past would not have even approached the Tower, let alone come in with abominations and blood mages on the loose. And to make it this far…"

Elissa shrugged, a little awkwardly. "I am a Grey Warden, ser. I had little choice."

"A Grey Warden? Then you came looking for allies against the darkspawn?" He looked to Wynne. "Perhaps there is something in that ritual of theirs that strengthens mental defences."

Alistair snorted quietly.

"Unlikely, Irving." Wynne smiled. "Elissa simply has a very strong will."

"Our apprentices learn basic mind skills, to protect themselves against the demons. They do not require magical ability, only discipline. Perhaps someone could teach you them, if you have the time to stay for a few days."

They would all need time to heal. Magical healing, while good, was not perfect. And if this Irving thought he could do something to protect her against blood mages…

Elissa nodded. "I would appreciate that."

"Good." His gaze travelled to Morrigan. "The apostate is with you?"

Elissa nodded firmly. "Yes."

"Then she is protected by the Treaties. But she should be careful around the Templars. Greagoir will understand, but some of the others, well, they have been known to attack first and ask questions later."

"I understand." Elissa looked at the witch. "Morrigan?"

The other woman sniffed. "Very well."

"Then, come, the Templars await. We shall let them know that once again the Tower is ours." Irving looked across at the door and sighed. "Curse whoever insisted the Circle had to be in a Tower."

Elissa limped down the stone hall leading away from the library, her nerves raw. The entire trip down the tower, she'd been watching, waiting with bated breath for an abomination they'd missed on the way up to leap out at them. But it had been a quiet trip, which only made her more on edge.

She stepped through the doorway where Wynne had previously erected a barrier, and sighed with relief as she counted the requisite three children and three adult mages.

Petra's face lit up as she saw Elissa. "You're back? Is everything alright? Is Wynne safe?"

Elissa nodded tiredly, and stepped out the way for the mage to see past her to the group of mages.

"Thank the Maker." Petra beamed. "First Enchanter! Wynne! Look, children, they've come back safely. The Circle is saved!"

"I hear we have you to thank for helping Wynne defend the children." Irving smiled at her.

The mage blushed. "I did what little I could."

"You kept the children safe while we left to clear the Tower." Wynne glanced at the other mages. "And you, Kinnon and Keili."

Kinnon offered her a half-bow. "It was the least I could do, Senior Enchanter." Keili nodded, pale, but said nothing.

A slight tugging on Elissa's mail trousers drew her attention and she looked down into the cherubic face of a blonde child wrapping in mage robes that were slightly too long for her. "Yes?"

"Are you the one who saved us?" Long lashes blinked over eyes that should have been innocent for a lot longer.

"I helped." Slowly Elissa bent her knees into a crouch, hiding the wince of pain. "What's your name?"

"'m Cassandra."

Elissa's breath caught in her throat. Cassandra. An image of a black-haired girl flashed into her mind, with ice-blue eyes and thin lips. Elissa swallowed hard. She looked down into waiting eyes. "My name is Elissa. And this is Duke." She ruffled the mabari's fur gently.

"Will you carry me?" Big blue eyes peered up at her hopefully.

For the second time in a minute, Elissa found herself speechless. But with the hopeful look on the girl's face, she couldn't say no. They were unlikely to find a demon between here and the main doors, so there wasn't a safety problem either. Elissa scooped her up, and settled her on her hip. The child would tire of the cold metal of her armour soon enough. "All right. Let's get moving, then."

Morrigan snorted as the two of them passed her on the way towards the door. Wynne and Irving, accompanied by Alistair, were already on their way past the apprentice quarters, towards the main doors.

Elissa hurried to catch up. The heavy stone doors loomed ahead, and no sound was coming through from the other side.

Leliana slipped up beside her. "A knock isn't going to be heard through that." She nodded towards the doors.

"Any suggestions?"

"Your shield would make a pretty big sound."

The youngest Cousland glanced incredulously at her companion. "Use my shield? Against _stone_?"

Leliana opened her mouth to respond. A resounding crash blasted their eardrums, and Elissa's head spun in time to see the dust clearing around the doors. A young female mage standing nearest the door was shaking her head, clearly trying to clear the ringing in her ears. Another mage, with grey hair and dark eyes, regarded the door with a self-satisfied smile.

Elissa glanced around for an explanation.

"A telekinetic blast against heavy stone makes loud noises, Warden." Irving winked at her. "We're not entirely helpless. Greagoir," He shouted, his voice amplified by magic. "It's me. The Tower is clear. Open up!"

There were several heartbeats of silence, and then the grating sound of stone against stone filled the air. The doors swung inwards, revealing two columns of Templars carrying bared swords and waiting with wary eyes.

The Knight Commander stood in between the lines, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet. His dark eyes were inscrutable and his expression calm, but the knuckles clenched around his extended blade were white. "Don't come any closer."

The group froze in their tracks. Slowly, Elissa bent and put Cassandra back on the floor. "Stay back," she murmured to the girl. Lifting her head, she met Leliana's eyes, and the minstrel beckoned the girl towards her, near the back of the group. Then Elissa squared her shoulders, and pushed her way to the front of the group.

Greagoir's eyes tracked her progress. "Warden?"

"Yes." She smiled reassuringly. "The tower is safe. We cleared them out, and rescued the mages."

"And you are sure these are not demons tricking you?" The Knight-Commander didn't looked convinced.

"Greagoir." Irving stepped to her side. Hands tightened on steel blades around them and Elissa prepared herself to leap between the First Enchanter and the Templars if necessary. "When we sleep, we walk the dreamscape amidst the stars of hope above."

Elissa glanced at the mage. Was he mad? Reciting poetry, _now_?

"And when we wake, the world is reborn." The templar relaxed, his sword lowering and his grip loosening. His eyes grew distant for a moment, as he remembered something in his past.

The quote had been a password then. Or something that Greagoir didn't think a demon would know.

"Stand down. It's them." The tension eased from the air as blades went back into sheathes. Or, most of them did.

"But, Commander-"

"I said, stand down!" Greagoir glared at the helmeted speaker. Slowly, unhappily, he put away the blade, although promptly crossed arms indicated his unhappiness.

Greagoir ignored him, and came forward. "Maker's breath, Irving. I did not expect to see you alive." They clasped arms firmly.

"Nor I, you. But it is over, Greagoir." Irving's smile was tired. "Thanks to the Warden, Uldred…is dead."

"You have my deepest gratitude, Warden." Greagoir's smile was warm, and he looked as though a heavy load had been lifted off his shoulders. The lines in his forehead had smoothed away, taking nearly a decade off his age. Even, his eyes almost sparkled. "The Circle, and the Chantry, owe you a great debt."

"Commander!" Cullen, the Templar who had been trapped upstairs in the white light before they freed him, shoved his way forward. He ignored a young woman who fell over when he pushed her out the way. One of the other mages near her caught her before she could hit the ground.

Visibly startled, Greagoir turned towards him.

The light in Cullen's eyes was fanatical. "Uldred tortured these mages, hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations." He gave the mages behind him a dirty look. "We don't know how many of them have turned."

A gasp echoed through steel helmets around them, and several hands went back to sword hilts. Elissa tensed. Greagoir held up a hand to stop them, his face suddenly stern again.

"What?" Irving snapped. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"Of course he'll say that." Cullen's face was contorted in a mask of hatred. "He might be a blood mage. Don't you know what they did?" He snarled. "I won't let this happen again."

Greagoir's back stiffened. "I am the knight-commander here, not you."

"Irving, a blood mage?" a young female apprentice whispered loudly. "Really? That old stick-in-the-mud who never lets anyone have any fun?" There were muffled giggles from those around her, quickly shushed by the older mages.

Cullen's face went red. "Why, you-"

Elissa cleared her throat, cutting the Templar off before he could get any more enraged. "If my opinion counts for anything, I don't think any of them are blood mages, or abominations. They were all resisting Uldred when I arrived, and he didn't seem very happy with any of them."

The Knight Commander glanced at her and nodded. "We have won back the tower. I will accept Irving's assurance that all is well."

Elissa felt the tension in her spine drain away, and her sore muscles unknotted a little, easing the pain a little. Around her, more of the Templars were relaxing from battle readiness, prepared to accept their commander's decision.

"But they may have demons within them, lying dormant…lying in wait!" Cullen's eyes flashed.

"Enough!" Greagoir jerked his hand in a chopping motion. "I have already made my decision." He paused for a moment. "All of you, perform a sweep of the Tower, in pairs. Kill abominations and demons, but hold any mages until I arrive." The mages scattered to the sides, and the Templars filed through into the tower without any further ado. Elissa was impressed, almost despite herself. For a commander to have that sort of instant obedience, despite any misgivings his soldiers had, was impressive.

"Irving, we have injured," Greagoir began.

The First Enchanter was already waving mages forward, gesturing them towards the make-shift infirmary the Templars had set up on the other side of the room. "Of course. No, not you Wynne. You've overdosed too much on lyrium already."

"Irving!"

"I must go to join the patrols." Greagoir cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Irving…it is good to have you back."

Irving laughed dryly. "I'm sure we'll be back at each other's throats again in no time. Wynne, don't you dare! I could see your eyes glowing from all the way across the Harrowing Chamber."

"Warden?" A soft voice by her elbow drew Elissa's attention away from the apparently impending fight. The young woman whose ears had been blasted when the other mage had alerted the Templars to their presence stood beside her. Dark brown hair was cut in a bob to just below her earlobes. A streak of blood near her hairline was the only remnant of battle left on her face.

"My name is Desina, and I'm a healer. I can help you, if you permit it?"

Elissa nodded with a relieved sigh. "Please."

"Just take a seat." The mage guided her to a nearby column. "It's easier if you relax, and don't fight it."

Elissa sank down gratefully, and leaned back against the column. Fingers clearly unfamiliar with removing armour fumbled at her side, and Elissa roused herself enough to help unbuckle her chest-plate, pauldrons and arm-harnesses. She lifted her arms for the mail shirt to be drawn off. Desina's fingers were gentle and confident as they prodded her skin through the arming doublet, searching for injuries, which were then bathed in cool magic.

If nothing else, Elissa thought wryly, this little adventure had taught her how to let a mage near her. She'd never thought she'd willingly let a mage cast magic on her, but she'd spent the last forty-eight hours, or however long it had been since they entered, having spell after spell layered onto her.

She glanced around the room, taking in the mages moving carefully among the injured Templars. Another mage was tending to Alistair, who leant against the opposite column. Leliana was surrounded by Cassandra and the other two child mages, playing some sort of hand game with them. Morrigan was standing stiffly off on her own, clearly uncomfortable. Wynne was still arguing softly with Irving, and Elissa watched them for a long moment. They were clearly close friends, and Irving seemed more amused than anything by the older mage's arguments.

"I see you've noticed it."

Elissa looked up at the healer. "I'm sorry?"

Desina nodded at the two older mages. "They're the worst kept secret in the Tower. They've never been particularly good at hiding it."

The worst kep…Elissa's eyes widened. Wynne and Irving were lovers? Really? She certainly hadn't expected that. The old mage had seemed far too…prim, to have a lover outside of marriage, and since mages weren't allowed to marry, the thought had never even crossed Elissa's mind. Stick-in-the-mud, the girl had called Irving. This was hardly stick-in-the-mud behaviour was it?

"There. I'm all done." Desina sat back on her heels.

"Thank you." Elissa heaved herself to her feet again, and refastened her armour. A glance at her companions indicated they were ready to go too, or in Morrigan's case well past being ready to go. A quick look out the one slitted window at the red and pink-stained sky, and then she approached the First Enchanter and Wynne. "First Enchanter?"

He broke off whatever he was saying and looked up with a smile. "My name is Irving, Warden."

"And I am Elissa." She paused. "My companions are tired. I think it would be best if we retired to the inn for the night."

He grimaced. "I would offer you quarters in the Tower, but it is hardly in hospitable shape."

"We will be fine in the inn." It was probably better this way, in fact. If they stayed here, Morrigan would doubtless get herself into trouble with the Templars.

"Very well. When you return tomorrow, I will have arranged for a teacher for you."

Elissa hesitated. "Before I go, I, uh, wanted to talk to you about the reason I came in the first place."

"Yes, of course." He nodded briskly. "Greagoir said you came here seeking allies against the darkspawn. I think the least we can do is help you. I would hate to survive this only to become overwhelmed by the Blight."

"So I have your word?"

"You have my word as First Enchanter. There are few mages left, but what is left of the Circle will join the Grey Wardens in the fight."

Elissa concealed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, First Enchanter."

"Irving, remember?" He smiled. A call from across the room drew his attention. "If you will excuse me?"

Three mornings later, Elissa and Alistair climbed the stairs leading to the second floor. For being barely two and a half days after a virtual blood bath, the Tower was surprisingly clean. Flagstones had been scrubbed, the filthy growth along floors and walls had been scraped off and disposed of and books and furniture had been cleaned and replaced in their positions. The grey smoke from the funeral pyres had drifted north over Lake Calenhad, and if she squinted, Elissa could see the cloud hovering on the horizon.

Cullen stood at the top, watching a trio of nearby mages closely, an ugly expression on his face and his hand on his sword. Alistair eyed him as they went past. Then he leaned closer in to Elissa, dropping his voice. "Can't you…talk to him, or something?"

"About his experiences? Why would he listen to me, over the Knight-Commander?"

"Because you went through the same thing?" Their boots clicked loudly on the stone floor.

"Shhh." Elissa glanced around nervously, hoping no-one else had heard that. Thankfully, the Templars all looked oblivious. "But I can't tell him that."

"Why not?"

"Do you think he wouldn't go running to the Chantry as soon as he found out? He's a fanatic now. It'd be signing my own death warrant," she said flatly.

He sighed. "I suppose." He looked back over his shoulder. "I don't understand. What made him react like that? You didn't."

"I was four. Too young to really understand...and the memories have faded since." Not that it didn't haunt her dreams. She'd woken in a sweat just that morning, dreaming of abominations chasing her through the fields and of wooden splinters sinking into her scrabbling fingers. "And, what they did to me wasn't nearly as bad as this. They showed me images, and used my blood. But they tortured him, and used his own mind against him."

Alistair sighed again.

"Warden!" a high pitched voice called and the sound of tiny running feet followed. Elissa turned to see the young apprentice Cassandra running towards her, an older mage some distance behind her but clearly trying to catch her.

"Apprentice." Elissa stooped to catch her.

The elf mage, in the robes of an older Apprentice, puffed to a stop in front of her. "M-my apologies, Warden. She ran away from me when she caught sight of you."

"Did you do that?" Elissa fixed the blonde child with a stern stare.

Cassandra giggled. "Yes."

"And why was that?" Elissa poked the child in the stomach.

"'Cause I wanna be a Grey Warden!"

Elissa exchanged a look with Alistair over her head. "Why?"

"'Cause I wanna be a hero!" Cassandra looked up hopefully. "Will you take me with you?"

Elissa coughed.

"Cassandra, that's enough! I'm so sorry, Warden." The mage was clearly horrified. "I don't know what's gotten into her."

"It's quite all right." Elissa set the child down on the floor and crouched to face her. "I can't take you with me, Cassandra."

Big fat tears welled up in the five-year-old's eyes.

Elissa reached out to wipe them away. "You're too young now and what I do is very dangerous. But if you study hard, and become very good at magic, maybe I can come back for you later."

Cassandra's face glowed. "Really? When?"

Elissa glanced up at Alistair, who shrugged. "I think we normally take mages after their Harrowing."

"Once you're a full mage. But only if you study very hard," she warned.

"I will!" Cassandra beamed. "I'll go and start studying now." Then she was off, her short legs carrying her down the corridor as fast as possible. The other mage took off after her, shouting for her to slow down.

Alistair gave her an amused look. "You have an admirer."

Elissa rolled her eyes. "Hardly an admirer." She looked down the passage the child had disappeared. "She won't take the Harrowing for at least another fourteen years. We might not even be alive then. And even if we are, we'll only have fifteen years left."

He put a hand on her shoulder, saying nothing.

She sighed. "Let's go." They continued walking around the curve of the hallway, heading for Irving's office. She froze outside, hearing raised voices inside, and grabbed Alistair's arm to keep him from knocking.

"…mad. They won't forget this, Greagoir!" That was Irving.

"The Tower is safe. We've seen no sign of abominations or blood mages. There's no reason to use the Rite."

"The Cha-" Irving broke off. There was a beat or two of silence, and then the door opened. Irving's head poked out and he smiled broadly as he spotted them. "I thought I felt someone out here. Come in."

Feeling slightly embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping, she followed him in, Alistair right behind her. "Forgive me, First Enchanter. I did not want to interrupt…" Greagoir and Wynne stood on either side of the desk, stacked once again with parchment and books. Elissa shot a guilty glance at the chest she'd stolen the book from.

"It is no matter." Irving waved a hand dismissively. "How are your lessons going, Elissa?"

"Well, thank you." Elissa watched Greagoir out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't seem surprised at the mention of lessons. Clearly Irving had either filled the Templar in, or had come up with some other explanation for a why a non-mage was taking lessons from a mage.

"Good."

"But, I think it's time we moved on. We have a lot we need to do, and not much time before the Archdemon makes its appearance." They weren't on a precise schedule, but Alistair had said the night before that the Archdemon would probably be making the surface in fairly short order.

"Of course." Irving smiled warmly. "Where are you headed next?"

"Redcliffe, I think."

"We hope to get Arl Eamon's help," Alistair added.

Irving tilted his head. "There are rumours that he is ill."

Elissa nodded. "I've heard those. We're hoping he has recovered."

Irving looked thoughtful. "Well, you just missed the boat to Redcliffe. It left last week."

A boat? That would be much more comfortable than walking south for a week. Except maybe for Alistair. "When will it be back?"

"Not for another two weeks." He shook his head.

It would be faster for them to walk then. She sighed.

Wynne cleared her throat. "Actually Irving, I have a request." She waited for his attention to turn to her. "I seek leave to follow the Grey Wardens."

Elissa gave her a surprised look. Wynne wanted to follow them? Why was this the first she'd heard of it? And did she even want the old mage with them? The larger their group grew, the easier it would be for people to track them. Her age was an issue as well. Would she be able to keep up with them? She and Morrigan didn't seem to get along, either. The last thing they needed was more friction in the group. But then again, Morrigan didn't seem to get along with anyone except Elissa.

"Wynne." Irving frowned. "We need you here…the Circle needs you."

And yet, she had already demonstrated how useful she was in a fight. They'd lasted much longer in each fight than their group would have been able to do without her. She was a healer, and Morrigan couldn't heal beyond mixing potions and poultices. And having someone a little more experienced with magic than the witch, just in case something went wrong or something happened, would be a good idea.

Wynne laughed. "Thank you for the sentiment, Irving." She smiled fondly, and Elissa wondered why she hadn't noticed the blatant love before. "But the Circle will do fine without me. It has you. This woman is brave and good and capable of great things. If she will accept my help, I will help her achieve her goals."

A quick glance at Alistair, and then Elissa inclined her head. "I would be honoured to have you join me…us, Wynne."

Irving shook his head, an amused smile on his lips. "You were never one to stay in the tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere."

"Why stay when I can be of service elsewhere?" Wynne spread her hands.

Greagoir stepped forward. "This is most irregular, Senior Enchanter. The rules regarding mages leaving the Circle…you would need a Templar escort."

"This young man is Templar-trained, Knight-Commander," Wynne said gravely.

"You are a Templar?" Greagoir's eyebrows shot up as he turned towards Alistair.

Alistair coughed. "I did not take my vows, ser. But I do have the skills."

"Nonetheless, you do not dress as a Templar." Greagoir's eyes narrowed. "There will be concern in the Chantries you pass that Wynne will appear unescorted. But, perhaps….this is what you want, Wynne?"

Wynne? Well, the Knight-Commander was probably on first-name basis with all of the Senior Enchanters. Particularly one like Wynne, who had been so close to becoming the First Enchanter.

"It is."

He turned abruptly to Alistair. "Warden, if you will permit me, I would give you Templar armour and weapons. Otherwise, you will be questioned in any Chantry you visit." His smile was tiny. "And, our weapons are of high quality and layered with spells. You will likely find them an improvement on what you carry now."

"I don't normally fight in heavy armour," Alistair began slowly, and then fell silent.

Greagoir pounced. "But you are capable of it?"

"Yes, of course." He glanced towards Elissa.

The Knight-Commander was right. Travelling with a mage was dangerous if they were caught by the Chantry, and while they could use their status as Grey Wardens to unravel any trouble they got into, it would cost them precious time and make it easier for Loghain to track them. And, they had two mages. Not only would it protect Wynne, but also Morrigan, even if the witch chose to dress as an apostate. "If you are willing, it would help us, Alistair."

"Then, thank you, Knight Commander." Alistair nodded firmly.

And the Templar shield would give him something to carry without drawing the unwanted attention that the Grey Warden shield he currently carried would.

"Then I give you leave to follow the Grey Warden, Wynne." Irving reached out for his lover's hands, ignoring their audience. "But know that you always have a place here." He murmured something too softly for Elissa to hear.

Elissa glanced at Greagoir, wondering what he made of this relationship. If she recalled correctly, mages weren't forbidden from having relationships. But she'd hadn't imagined it was something they would blatantly flaunt in front of the Templars, who swore oaths of chastity. On the other hand, her lip quirked slightly, maybe that was more reason for the mages to taunt their captors. But the First Enchanter? It didn't seem like something he, or Wynne, would do. Nonetheless, Greagoir didn't seem very affected by it. He was watching them, with an indecipherable look in his eyes, but without any sign of irritation.

Wynne stepped back. "I will pack my bags then, and meet you by the front doors, Elissa?"

"That sounds fine, Wynne."

The old mage disappeared through the door. Irving coughed lightly. "I think I can match Greagoir's offer as well." His smile was sly. "I'm sure can find some special robes in the Vaults for Wynne, and your apostate. Ones designed for battle rather than every-day wear."

"I would appreciate that." Elissa was hard pressed to keep the delight from showing on her face. She wasn't naïve enough to believe they weren't going to end up in more fights, and anything that would help them was good. The only problem would be convincing Morrigan to wear them.


	14. Fallen

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect_. As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative, positive and anything in between) are always welcome, and I do respond to each review individually.

A/N: My apologies for the delay in posting. All I can plead is that life got away with me. Sigh. Hopefully my schedule will be more reliable now, at least till June.

Thank you to Manda Dean for adding me to your subscription list. I couldn't PM you, so I hope you're reading this :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14 – Fallen<strong>

_Fluid rushing through tunnels,_

_branching out in the city_

_like a network or spider's web__._

_Rhythmic pounding unending__._

_Dark red going out and_

_Light coming back__._

∞Poetry in Healing by Sister Idrina Menzala

It took Elissa over a week to gather her courage to approach Morrigan about the robes.

"Absolutely not!" Morrigan turned her head away, towards her small camp-fire.

Elissa sighed. "These are designed for battle. They'll give your more protection." She glanced up at the sun. It was climbing high into the sky; they should already have been on their way if they wanted to make Redcliffe the following day. Unfortunately she'd already been fighting with Morrigan over the robes for over half an hour.

"My robes are fine." Morrigan bristled with indignation, like an irritated cat. "They're comfortable, and I know how to fight in them."

"Come on, Morrigan. I know you like your robes. But they're designed for the Wilds. For running through trees and not getting caught. Not for pitched battles with darkspawn, demons and Maker-knows-what-else."

"I'm not a Circle mage." Morrigan spat the word as though it tasted foul. "Not like that preachy...old woman." The witch had raged and shouted when Elissa had brought Wynne back to camp, and there had been a moment where Elissa had thought she'd have to get between them to keep the two from coming to magical blows. "And I'm not going to pretend to be one!" She eyed the robes in Elissa's hands as though they would bite her.

"And putting on a robe is pretending to be a Circle Mage?" Elissa demanded, losing her patience. "Morrigan, be sensible. You're a mage, a witch of the Wilds, whatever you wear. With you looking like an apostate, we're all in more danger of being stopped by the Chantry, of being tracked by Loghain."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "And putting the Chantry boy in Templar armour is supposed to make us inconspicuous?" She nodded to Alistair, dressed in his brand new full plate armour.

"It would be stranger if two mages travelled without a Templar escort!" Elissa sighed again, wondering whose brilliant idea this had been. Oh right. Hers. "Please, Morrigan. It'll make me feel better if I know there's something a bit more substantial between your skin and any blades."

Morrigan snorted. "Like more cloth?"

"Enchanted cloth," Elissa corrected.

"I refuse to look like that old biddy!" the witch snapped.

"I picked a set that didn't look as…concealing," Elissa held out the black and gold folded material. In fact, she had picked the set that showed off the most skin, since that seemed to be Morrigan's favoured look. And while this one didn't show quite as much skin as Morrigan's own robes, it was close. But it had several powerful spells woven into the fabric to provide increased protection and magical strength for the wearer. Wynne's, on the other hand, were conservative and much more like her ordinary robes, only more powerful and dark blue in colour. "It has spells woven into it for more power."

"Oh very well. Since you insist." Morrigan sniffed ungratefully, and snatched the pile out of her hands.

"Thank you." Shaking her head, Elissa turned away.

An hour later, they were on the road, making their way along the mountain path and surrounded by trees. The cry of an eagle pierced the quiet, and its mate's answer echoed far above. Leliana had taken point, watching for any sign of activity. Well, bandit activity or the presence of Loghain's soldiers. Alistair and Elissa would sense darkspawn long before Leliana saw them. But the humming at the back of Elissa's head was relatively quiet at the moment, so there were no darkspawn near enough to them to be a threat today. Alistair was walking with Wynne, the two deep in conversation, although Alistair did keep throwing looks back in Elissa's direction, which the only surviving Cousland was determinedly ignoring.

Elissa herself was lost in thought, her finger rubbing slowly along the silver ring on her finger. She hadn't managed to bring herself to take it off yet. It was the last memory of the life she would have led, of the Lady Elissa Cousland-MacTir rather than Grey Warden Elissa. The last remnant of the Loghain she loved.

"If you do not take care," Morrigan's voice startled her from just behind her shoulder, "the others will see you." She nodded to the ring.

Elissa jammed her gauntlets on. "See me what?"

The witch gave her an amused but unimpressed look. "Tis not the first time I have seen you playing with that ring. And each time someone approaches, you quickly hide it."

"No, I don't." Elissa hid her hands behind her back.

Morrigan remained unimpressed. "That was pathetic."

Elissa sighed, giving up. "I know."

"And what is so extremely fascinating about it that you were not even aware of my approach?" Morrigan eyed her. "Or any nearby darkspawn out to kill us?"

"I was just thinking."

The witch laughed. "Tis that not Alistair's speciality?"

Elissa smiled, and then sobered. "I meant I was actually thinking. About Loghain. And everything."

"Ah, yes. The betrayer." Morrigan pursed her lips. "I do not understand your anger with him."

Elissa stared at her. "What?"

"Why are you so angry with the man?"

"Why?" Elissa yelped. Alistair started towards her, glaring at Morrigan, and she waved him away. "He abandoned the king and the army, he left them to _die_! And then he blames the Wardens for the king's death, and takes the throne!"

Morrigan shrugged, looking puzzled. "This Loghain is a great general, is he not? And did you not say that you and Alistair were late getting to the beacon? If you were late, you cannot blame him for making a tactical decision to retreat instead of losing his entire army. And with no king on the throne, someone had to take charge, no?"

"We weren't that late. He could still have saved Cailan." Elissa put her hands on her hips.

"At what cost, hmm?" Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "No man, even one of your kings, is so important as to be worth sacrificing hundreds. Not that I personally think it would have been a great loss, save for fewer bodies to throw against the darkspawn. But if your king was stupid enough to charge in the front lines, did he not deserve his death?"

"No, he didn't," Elissa snapped. "Cailan was leading by example, inspiring his men to fight harder!"

"Nonetheless, if his survival was so important, he shouldn't have been on the front lines, no? Tis only logical." Morrigan crossed her arms. "I truly don't understand you, Warden. You're being impractical. Would you have had him charge in to rescue the man, losing hundreds more men to rescue a man who might have died anyway?"

"You don't understand." Elissa flared. "You've never had a friend!"

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "And I am thankful for it if it makes one act like this. A weak, childish girl." She sniffed and tossed her head. A wolf was suddenly in her place, and she melted into the forest.

Muttering under her breath, Elissa strode forward, ignoring the wolf she could sense more than see hovering just within the tree line. How dare she? She didn't know what it was like to have your world dragged from beneath your feet! To feel the stone in your stomach as you realised your betrothed had all but killed your best friend.

Slowly, guilt crept in. Morrigan hadn't deserved that last shot. It wasn't her fault that she'd grown up with animals instead of humans, and that she didn't understand the human mind and emotions. And maybe Morrigan didn't have a friend, but that didn't mean her world hadn't been tipped upside down when her mother forced her to leave her home and come on this journey with unfamiliar faces. It was utterly unfair of Elissa, and completely below a Cousland.

"I'm sorry." Her voice wasn't loud enough for her companions to hear, but a wolf's sharp ears would pick it up without any trouble. There was no response from the witch, and Elissa sighed.

"Elissa!" Alistair called.

She turned forward, spotting him near a caravan at the edge of the road. There was an empty harness where a horse, or a donkey, was supposed to be. With a final glance in Morrigan's direction, Elissa broke into a jog.

The merchant smiled, a little uncomfortably at her approach. "Ser."

"This is Felix de Groisbois, a merchant," Alistair said. "I thought…well, we always need supplies."

"We're quite well stocked at the moment, actually." Elissa glanced at the merchant. "You're travelling quite deserted roads, ser."

He grimaced. "I don't normally take this route, but with this war we've got, I was hoping for a bit of luck and good weather in the mountains. Sadly, I got neither. This trip has been one miserable disaster after another. There was a storm the night before last night and a thief stole a prize gem while I was sheltering in a cave, and now my horse has run off. I know you said you don't need any more supplies, but I don't suppose you'd…consider helping a fellow out?"

Elissa's eyes narrowed. "Help you out how?"

"Of all the things that went wrong, the worst is this artefact I bought off a fellow in Jader." Felix leaned into his caravan and rummaged for a moment. He brought out a dull blue stone, engraved with heavy runes. "It's a 'control rod' I'm told. For a golem. No point in me keeping it though, I'd never get to use it…but maybe you could."

A golem. They were stone warriors that had defended the dwarven empire for centuries, weren't they? But they were long gone, or so Aldous had said. What was a control rod doing for one up here? "Where's the golem it controls then?"

He coughed. "It's supposed to be in a village down south, waiting to be activated. Even if I could get down there, which I can't, I'm told the place is over-run by darkspawn. But that shouldn't be a problem for adventurous types like yourselves, surely. Or I'm hoping that's so, at least." He smiled winningly.

"How do I know this will even work?"

"The fellow I bought it from is a longstanding contact. He said he got it from the man who owned the golem." He shifted a little. "But to be honest, I have no idea if it will work."

Elissa raised an eyebrow. "And you expect me to buy it?"

"No, no. I wasn't going to _sell_ it to you. If you can use it, it's yours. I just don't want to have to lug around something that might be mistaken for a gemstone by some bandit." He shuddered.

If it cost them nothing…and the control rod didn't look like it weighed much. And if the village was over-run with darkspawn, it was the Wardens' responsibility to go and clear them out anyway. "All right. I'll take it then." It probably wouldn't be of any use, but just in case…

Felix heaved a relieved sigh. "Just as well. It's in a town called Honnleath. Just hold up the rod and say 'dulef gar'. That will wake the golem up, or so I'm told. I hope it works." He handed it over.

"So do I." She glanced over her shoulder at the spot further up the road, where Leliana and Wynne waited. "We should get a move on, Alistair."

"Right," he said hastily.

"Thank you." Elissa offered the merchant a polite smile, and then turned on her heel to head up the slope.

"Did you buy something?" Leliana asked excitedly.

Silently, Elissa handed over the control rod. Then she glanced at Wynne. "How are you feeling?" It was their fourth day of walking, and the mage would not have been used to walking for such long hours.

Wynne's smile was warm. "Thank you for asking, but I'm fine. A little tired. Tonight's rest will be welcome." She set off after Leliana, who was still examining their most recent purchase.

There was something in her tone that made Elissa stiffen as she kept pace with the older woman. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, of course." The mage laughed softly. "I am just a little weary. As you may have noticed, I am no spring chicken."

That was true enough. But judging by the amount of magic the woman could raise…"There's still some life in those old bones, I bet."

"Thank you. You're very kind to say so." Wynne shifted her weight. "But in all honesty, I don't know how many more years I have left in me. I have lived for such a long time. But there is always something to do and I have to keep going in order to do it. I think I shall be glad when I am…done."

Alarm spread through Elissa. "You're not allowed to be done quite yet." She couldn't have the old woman dropping dead on her. How the hell would she explain to the First Enchanter that his lover had died?

Wynne shook her head. "Oh no, I am not the sort of person who leaves things unfinished. I'll see this through, I promise."

A thought occurred to Elissa. "And the overdose…"

"Wasn't enough to addict me to lyrium." Wynne said reassuringly. "A day or two of drinking too much will not cause much damage. It's when you overdose for weeks at a time it starts to get risky."

The glowing was gone, it was true, although the mage's eyes were still bright blue. Perhaps that was their normal colour; Elissa couldn't remember. She hadn't exactly been paying attention at Ostagar.

"So tell me, how did you become a Grey Warden?" Wynne asked.

Elissa glared at the ground. "Arl Howe," she spat, "massacred my family, and Duncan helped me escape." It still hurt to think about them, although the pain wasn't as immediate as it once had been. It'd been more than two months since she'd fled from her castle and into the night, and she had far more to think about than her grief.

Wynne's eyebrows rose. "Rendon Howe? The Arl of Amaranthine? Why would he do such a thing to you?" Her brow furrowed.

"Out of jealousy, I suspect. He wanted Highever, my father's Teyrnir," she said bitterly.

Wynne's eyes widened. "You are…you are the last of the Couslands. I had no idea…my lady."

Elissa bit her lip. "Once a Cousland…and now nothing."

"No, not nothing." Wynne's wrinkled hand reached out to hold Elissa's. "You are a Grey Warden, one of the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden. We depend on you now. Take heart, my dear. You survived, even when you were not expected to. We do not know yet what lies in store for you, or for the name you carry."

Elissa snorted softly. That was the understatement of the Age. She seemed to have a knack for surviving situations that were supposed to kill her. The blood mages, her family's murder, Loghain's betrayal… She was like a cat with nine lives. Or a cockroach that refused to die.

Wynne frowned. "It is not so bad being a Grey Warden, is it?"

"I never wanted to be one. I still don't want to. But I am a Cousland, and I will do my duty," Elissa said grimly. She paused. "But I will not forget what Howe has done."

_No, I will never forget. And I will kill him for it. Slowly. Painfully._

"Sometimes it gives me comfort to think that everything will end up the way it is supposed to be, that it will all be all right." Wynne squeezed her hand. "You were chosen; you survived the Joining even where others did not. Perhaps it was meant to be."

Elissa pressed her lips together. It was meant to be that her parents died at Howe's hands? That her nephew was slaughtered? Her best friend shredded on the battlefield? Loghain was supposed to betray them? No, she couldn't accept that. Any of that.

"And now I have upset you." Wynne's face was genuinely sorrowful. "I am sorry."

Elissa opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by Leliana's shout: "Elissa!"

The youngest Cousland muttered under her breath at the call, gave Wynne a politely apologetic smile, and then sped up to catch up with Leliana. A panting young woman was standing beside her, looking ruffled and a little dirty.

"Her wagon was attacked," Leliana explained. "Just down in the valley."

"Please help us!" the young woman begged. "Please! T-the attackers….my brother, he's hurt."

"Of course." Elissa broke into a run, gesturing for the others to follow her. The young woman hurried off ahead of them. Bandits? Up here? What were they doing on the mountain paths? This was hardly a main trading route.

"This is a trap." Morrigan was suddenly beside her.

"What do you mean?" Elissa frowned. Up ahead she could see a tumbled caravan, with broken crates around it. A young blond man was leaning against the rocks, one hand pressed to his side.

"It's a trap. I can feel a-" her voice cut off as, with an almighty groan, an enormous tree trunk collapsed just behind them.

Elissa skidded to a stop, her heart skipping a beat. She quickly counted her companions, and momentary relief washed over her. They were all unharmed, although Leliana had barely managed to duck through in time. Then she turned towards the travellers, and stiffened. The man she'd thought was injured was suddenly upright, a sword in one hand and a long dagger in the other. Four more people she hadn't seen before were emerging from wherever they were hidden, also carrying weapons. From the corner of her eye, Elissa could see glimpses of colour up on the rock ledges. Archers.

"-mage," Morrigan completed her sentence.

It _was_ a trap.

"The Grey Warden dies here!" the blond man shouted.

Elissa cursed, jerking both blade and shield free of their bonds. She parried a sword strike, and ducked to avoid a mace that swung where her head had been. A whistling sound was all the warning she got before a flaming arrow skidded off her helm. Another one landed in the dirt at her feet. "Leliana! The archers!"

Trusting the woman to deal with her counterparts, Elissa turned her attention back to the warriors. She slid beneath a strike, coming up quickly beneath and thrusting her blade between helmet and collar. She leaped back quickly to avoid a pair of lightning fast blades wielded by the blond man she'd seen originally. A familiar blast of power nearby announced that Alistair had found the mage.

The assassin she faced was lightly armoured, but judging by the speed he moved at, it would not make it any easier to bring him down. And she needed him alive. Needed to know who sent assassins after a Grey Warden. A strange tattoo marked the right side of his face, and the left side of his forehead. He spun, his blades whipping hand over hand to strike at her in an unpredictable pattern. She was hard pressed to parry or block them all, and several got through to scrape unpleasantly against her armour. Her breaths came hard and heavy as she struggled to keep up with the man.

Then she saw an opening. She leaped forward, smashing her shield against his head. Before he could even stagger back, she brought her knee up in a decidedly unsportsmanlike move that her mother had taught her. It was rendered all the more effective by the heavy steel of her armour. Then her fist flashed, weighted down by her sword, and struck the side of his face. He crumpled to the floor.

She leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. The rest of the fight was over. Leliana was already making her way through packs, finding small valuables and items of use to pocket.

Elissa stared down at the unconscious man at her feet. Pointed ears peeked out of his hair. Not a man, but an elf. A very well trained, and rather handsome, elf. Who would send assassins after them? Ones who could recognise them on sight even?

"Who's that?" Alistair pulled off his helm beside her.

"Whoever was in charge of this trap." She looked up at him. "How good are you at knots?"

Alistair gave her a startled look. "He's alive?"

"We need to know who sent him. So I just knocked him out. But he needs to be tied up before he wakes up, and I don't know how long he'll be out for." Elissa rummaged through her pack, and came out with a coil of rope.

Several minutes later, the elf was disarmed of all weapons, tied up tightly, and they were all crowded around him in a clearing Leliana had found just off the side of the road. It wouldn't do to have someone come across them interrogating him. Elissa stared down, feeling vaguely sick. Interrogating. It was a word she never thought she'd have to use. It implied torture. She dearly hoped they wouldn't have to get to that point.

She squared her shoulders. If they did, then they did. Her duty was to stop the darkspawn, and she couldn't do that if they were dodging assassins continually. She would just have to control herself now, and throw up later. "How do we wake him up?"

"With pleasure." Morrigan's hands flicked and a large ball of ice appeared above his head. Her brow creased in concentration, and it began to glow with a flicker of red fire deep in its heart. The ice began to melt, first in slow, ponderous drops. Then, faster. And faster still. Then it crashed down in a single flood, like a winter waterfall crashed over the rocks high up in the Frostback Mountains.

The elf's eyes snapped open, a startled gasp escaping his lips. His body convulsed in its ropes. He cringed as icy rivulets ran down his face and into his hair, clinging to the sides of his head. His eyes focused on her helmeted face, and then glanced across at her companions.

To her surprise, a teasing smile touched his lips. "I rather thought I'd wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet."

It was rather flippant for a man who was at the mercy of the woman he'd just tried to kill. "That can easily be rectified."

He laughed. "Of that I have no doubt. You are most skilled. If you haven't killed me, however, you must have kept me alive for some purpose?" He tilted his head inquiringly, and his eyes gleamed.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'll ask the questions here, thank you." The elf was Antivan, by his accent, and there was something nudging at the edge of her mind. Something she knew she should remember.

"Ah!" His face lit up. "I'm to be interrogated then? Let me save you some time. My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I'm a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of killing any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."

"I'm rather happy you did," Elissa said dryly. An Antivan Crow? She remembered Oriana talking about them. Deadly assassins who all but ruled Antiva, and who inspired great consternation and fear among neighbouring nations. They were as infamous, and almost more deadly, than the Orlesian bards. Someone had paid a lot of money to have her and Alistair killed.

"So would I be, in your shoes." He shook his head sadly. "But for me, it sets a rather poor precedent. Being captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to one's budding assassin career."

Elissa couldn't help the smile that quirked her lips. She repressed it, but not quickly enough to keep from Zevran from seeing it. He grinned at her, his eyes dancing.

She schooled her face into solemn lines. "Who hired you to kill us?"

"A rather taciturn fellow in the capital," he answered easily.

A sinking feeling began in her stomach, wiping all humour from the situation.

"…Loghain, I think his name was. Yes, that was it." He nodded firmly.

Loghain. Elissa was now even queasier than before. He sent an assassin. He didn't want her alive anymore. She swallowed, and viciously shoved her emotions away. Not now. "How long ago?"

"The Crows received the contract two weeks past."

"When were you to see him next?"

"I wasn't." He shrugged. "If I had succeeded, I would return to Antiva and the Crows would inform your Loghain of the results, if he didn't know already. If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then."

"How much were you paid?" How much were their lives worth to Loghain?

"_I_ wasn't paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely though. Or so I understand." He pursed his lips. "Which does make me about as poor as a Chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest."

He looked up at her in total sincerity and innocence.

She was unaffected. "Then why are you one?"

Zevran seemed to give it some serious thought. "Well, aside from a distinct lack of ambition, I suppose it's because I wasn't given much of a choice about it. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, too, or so I am led to believe." He grinned. "But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well supplied: wine, women, men." He winked, openly looking her up and down. "Whatever you happen to fancy." He leaned forward as far as he could, as though confiding a secret. "Though, the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd think twice about it."

"Thanks." She refrained from rolling her eyes. "If I ever find myself wanting to slaughter innocents for a living, I'll take that under advisement."

His eyes flared, but the emotion was quickly shuttered away. "You seem like a bright girl, Elissa Cousland. You have other options, I'm sure."

Of course he knew her name. A thought occurred to her. "When you attacked, you said that the Grey _Warden_ dies here. But there are two of us."

"Ah, yes. I know. I was hired to kill all Grey Wardens, but I was told my employer had a particular interest in seeing Elissa Cousland dead."

Elissa swallowed, feeling as though her heart had just been ripped out of her chest and stomped on. It was only through sheer force of will she kept her knees from collapsing. It was more important that she die than any other Grey Warden? Than the rightful heir to the throne that Loghain had seized? "Why are you telling me all this? Without a fight?"

"Why not?" Zevran raised his eyebrow. "I was not contracted for silence." He considered that a moment. "Not that I offered it for sale, precisely."

"I though the loyalty of Antivan Crows to their employers was unparalleled." Elissa studied him. "Aren't you supposed to die before failing a contract? Doesn't giving me this information make it harder to…kill me?" The stopper holding back her emotions wobbled.

"True." His eyes gleamed. "But loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you are done interrogating me, we can discuss that further."

"Discuss it further?"

"I have a proposition for you." He smiled winningly.

_A proposition?_ Elissa's eyes narrowed. "I'm listening. Make it quick."

"Well, here's the thing. As you said, I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit." He shrugged. "That's the way it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you are obviously the sort to give the Crow pause. So let me serve you instead."

Elissa's jaw dropped. He wanted to join their group? "You must think I'm royally stupid." To essentially invite an assassin who'd already tried to kill her once to try again?

Something flashed through his eyes for a moment but was gone too fast for her to read it. "I think you're royally tough to kill." He fluttered his eyelids. "And utterly gorgeous. Not that I think you'll respond to simply flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess."

Morrigan snorted.

It was like being at court, with the insincere flattery and manoeuvring, only with cruder words than any would voice to the youngest daughter of the Couslands. He probably meant it about as much as they did too. She put her hands on her hips. "And what's to stop you from finishing the job later, hmm? Slipping a knife into our backs while we sleep, or more likely, poison into our drinking water?"

"To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was very young. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold." He grimaced. "But the only way out is to sign up with someone they can't touch. Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me on principle, for failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you."

"Will your Master not come after you?" Elissa demanded. "Or send his other Crows? We don't need to be dodging more assassins trying to kill you as well as whoever is going to be sent after us now that you have failed."

"You are well informed, Warden." He raised his eyebrows. "More than I would have expected."

"Ori-my sister-in-law was from an Antivan merchant house," she said tightly. Beautiful, sweet Oriana, who had wanted nothing more than to love her husband and raise her children.

"Oh?" He seemed oblivious to her tone. "Which one?"

"Alvarez."

Zevran's eyes widened, and then he started laughing. "That is a fact that my old Master did not know. Or he would have demanded a much higher price for your death."

"Oh?"

"Mmm. The Alvarez trading house has far too many connections to the Crows for a Guildmaster to take the decision to attack one of theirs lightly."

Elissa hadn't realised. She knew Oriana's family had been wealthy, but Fergus had married for love, not politics, and Oriana had never mentioned it. She pushed the thoughts away. "As I said, will the Crows not try to kill you?"

"Possibly." He shrugged. "I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself as well as you." He smiled. "Not that you seem to need much help. And if not, well, it is not as if I had many alternatives to start with, no?"

Despite his attempt at nonchalance, there was something desperate about the way the skin tightened around the corners of his eyes. Something that reminded her of the stray dogs that she'd sometimes seen in Denerim. The ones that had been viciously beaten and starved till they broke and now merely lay at the side of the road, waiting for death. Then the expression disappeared, as though it never existed, and Elissa wondered if she'd imagined it.

"Why would I want your service?" She couldn't believe she was asking this. Was she completely insane? To even think about bringing him along was ridiculous. Their group was already big enough, and if she was going to increase it, an assassin who'd already tried to kill her was not the best option.

"Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows try something a bit more…sophisticated now that I have failed. I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed?" Zevran winked and ignored Alistair's squawk. "Fend off unwanted suitors? No?"

Elissa raised an eyebrow. "Is this before or after you stab me in the back?" So he was a little more irreverent than the nobles at court. His complete lack of propriety, in a different way to Morrigan, was new. And it reminded her of Daveth, from Ostagar. Before her world had been ripped from beneath her for the second time.

"Tsk, these things you say." He laughed. "They must drive the men at home absolutely wild."

She pretended not to have heard him. "And would I expect the same amount of loyalty from you as you have shown to the Crows?"

Wynne cleared her throat. "You're not seriously considering this, are you?" Her tone was disapproving.

Elissa glanced at her. "The skills of the Antivan Crows are legendary."

"They are. Both in bed and out." Zevran leered.

"My question stands, however." She pinned him with a look.

"I happen to be a very loyal person," he protested. "Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing. That's not a fault, really, is it?" His expression faltered. "I mean, unless you're the sort that would do the same thing. In which case, I…suppose I don't come very well recommended."

"And what do you want in return for all this?"

He pretended to consider it. "Let's see, being allowed to live might be nice. And make me marginally more useful to you. And somewhere down the line, if you decide you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?"

Elissa glanced around. Leliana seemed intrigued at the prospect, but she was the only one who seemed to think it a good idea. "Very well. I accept your offer."

"Elissa?" Alistair sounded worried. "Are you sure about this? He just tried to kill us."

"Don't worry. He'll come in useful." _I think_.

"Hmm. All right, all right." Alistair sighed. "But if there was ever a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello."

"I think it knocked on the door a long time ago, Alistair," she said dryly. "Now we've just invited it in."

Morrigan stepped forward. "A fine plan. But I would examine your food and drink a lot more closely from now on, were I you."

Zevran grinned. "That's excellent advice for anyone."

Elissa reached down to untie the knots, one hand on the dagger at her waist in case he made a sudden move to attack her.

He shook his head. "My thanks, but not necessary." He stood up, the ropes falling off him to the floor. He'd untied them.

"How long have you been free?" Elissa couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, since about five seconds after I woke up."

"But I tied them well!" Alistair yelped.

Zevran laughed. "I'm a Crow, my friend. It takes more than a couple of farm knots to keep me." He turned back to Elissa. "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation. This I swear."

"I accept your oath." She offered him her hand.

"This is a mistake," Wynne warned.

Elissa flinched minutely. Then she straightened her shoulders and met the mage's eyes directly. "If it is, then the consequences are my responsibility."

"I think you made the right choice." Leliana skipped forward. "Welcome, Zevran."

"Ah, another vision of loveliness." He reached for her hand. "I did not think such beauty existed among the Grey Wardens."

Leliana jerked her fingers out of reach. "On the other hand, maybe not." Despite her words, her smile was amused. "Come, Elissa. Shall we go?"

"Yes. And Zevran?"

"My mistress called?"

"Stay in sight."

"Why would I ever go elsewhere?" He batted his eyelids.

Rolling her eyes, Elissa turned to the other Grey Warden. "Alistair, do you want to take point?"

"No." Alistair shook his head. "I don't trust the assassin not to stab you as soon as your back is turned."

"I am capable of taking care of myself," Elissa said mildly. Then she sighed. "Leliana?"

"Of course." The minstrel danced away.

"Elissa." Alistair touched her armoured shoulder. He still looked concerned.

She smiled reassuringly. "I've kept his weapons, Alistair. And I'm sure you'll keep an eye on him for me. At least until we trust him."

"I don't think I'll ever trust him," Alistair muttered.

"I don't think you've thought about this properly, Elissa."

"Not now, Wynne. Please." Elissa was too tired to think. It had been a long, emotionally traumatising day and she was about half an inch from an emotional breakdown. The flames crackled over dried branches, and the heat warmed her body, still shivering from her icy bath in the nearby lake.

"We need to talk about this, now. Before it's too late." Wynne sat down beside her on the log by the campfire. "You shouldn't have agreed to bring the assassin with us."

Elissa closed her eyes. "What would you have had me do? Kill him in cold blood? Or send him on his way to try killing us again?"

"If you'd sent him away, he'd have had to track us down again to try. Now all he has to do is murder us in our sleep!" There was a rustle of cloth, as though the mage were agitated.

"At least this way we know where he is. Instead of constantly wondering where and when he was going to strike. And it isn't as though I'm giving him free rein. He'll be watched, till I know we can trust him."

"He tried to kill us," Wynne repeated.

Elissa opened her eyes. "Yes. Under contract. And now he wants my protection in exchange for helping us instead of our enemies. Since I don't plan on letting anyone else kill anyone in this group, he gets that protection and we get his skills. The only way to keep him from attacking us without accepting him would have been to kill him. And I won't kill in cold blood." Except for blood mages.

"He is dangerous. You can't trust him."

The mage's obstinate expression was the last straw, and Elissa ran out of patience.

"And how do I know if I can trust any of you?" she asked flatly. "Morrigan is a witch of the Wilds, and probably has her own damned agenda. Leliana is a devout _Chantry_ sister who knows I was a blood mage's victim and who might be a madwoman who thinks she has dreams from the Maker. Alistair is an ex-Templar who might turn me in to the Chantry. And you're a mage who spent days locked in with abominations and blood mages, and despite what I said to Greagoir, could very well _be_ an abomination. Compared to all that, what is an assassin?"

Wynne stared at her.

"If I only accepted help from people I was sure I could trust, I'd be travelling by myself." _And I don't even know if I can trust myself anymore__._ "I just have to believe that you all want the Blight to be over. And considering how selfish most people are, Zevran's reason, wanting to escape a screwed up life, sounds just as much, if not more, plausible than wanting to save the world." Even to her own ears, she was sounding vaguely hysterical. She had to go, before she said something she couldn't take back. She stood up.

"Elis-"

"I'm going for a walk." Her walk was almost a run as she made her way out of the circle of light and into the forest. Twigs broke beneath her boots, the sound almost as loud as the thud of her heart in her ears. The heavy smell of pine needles and moist earth surrounded her as she gasped for breath. Bark scraped her palms as she scrambled through the trees, climbing logs and balancing as she dropped over small ledges.

She arrived at the edge of the deserted lake, breathing heavily. Her mouth was dry and her muscles quivered, whether with exertion, rage or the need to cry she wasn't sure. Further out, the rising crescent moon turned the black water to shimmering silver. The mountains on either side of her were immense dark shapes against the star-studded sky, sinking down into even darker forests. In the distance, she heard a lone wolf's howl.

She kicked angrily at the loose stones on the shore. A shower of them dropped into the water with soft plopping sounds, rippling the surface. She opened her hand, and looked down at the ring sitting innocently in her palm. The sparkle of moonlight against the diamond seemed to taunt her, mock her. She closed her eyes and clenched her fist, feeling the stone bite into her hand.

"Maker damn you, Loghain!" Then she drew back her hand and threw it as hard as she could into the air. It vanished into the darkness, and she couldn't even hear it land in the water.

She dropped to the ground with a loud thud. She ignored the sting of tiny stones digging through her trousers and into her flesh. "Damn it, Loghain. Why did you do this? What did I ever do to you?" To her horror, tears began to trickle down her cheeks, and her voice broke. "All I ever wanted to do was love you."

One hand swiped the tears away, not caring that she was leaving dirty marks on her cheeks. "I hate you," she whispered. "Hate you. Hate you. I swear I hate you, you bastard." She clenched her fists. It was no use. "Why can't I hate you?" Drawing her knees up, she buried her head in her arms, and let the tears run freely.

Eventually, she became aware of another body beside her, and stiffened. Her hands went instinctively to her back, and she realised with horror that she hadn't brought her sword. Or any weapon for that matter. Or even her armour. She was defenceless.

"It's okay," a voice murmured. "It's just me." A shoulder bumped hers.

Elissa slumped in relief. Leliana. Then her muscles tensed again. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," the Orlesian said gently.

Elissa turned away. That was perfect. Absolutely perfect. "I suppose you want an explanation."

"No."

Surprised, Elissa turned to look at her friend's face.

Leliana was staring out across the lake, her expression pensive. "I know what it's like to need to just cry. And you've had a long, tiring day." She caught sight of Elissa's astonished face and smiled softly. "If you want to tell me, you can. But we all have secrets, Elissa. And I'm not going to push you for an answer if you're not ready to give it."

So she hadn't been here long enough to hear about Loghain. Otherwise there would be no way the woman wouldn't have wanted an explanation. Even someone less curious than Leliana wouldn't let that sort of revelation go uncommented upon. "Thank you." Elissa wasn't sure whether she was thanking Leliana, or the Maker. "How did you know where I was?"

"Zevran found you, and came to get me."

"Zevran?" Elissa asked in surprise. "How did _he_ find me?"

"When you left camp, Alistair panicked because you were unarmed. In the mess, Zevran slipped off. The first we knew of his disappearance was when he came back to get me." Leliana nodded into the woods behind them. "He's still there. Keeping watch."

Elissa tensed. "You trust him?" In the woods he would have an unimpeded view of their unprotected backs.

Leliana shrugged. "If he wanted you dead, he could have killed you earlier, before he came to get me. Or either of us in the time since I sat here."

"How did you keep Alistair from coming? He would never let Zevran be out here unwatched."

Leliana's laughter was like peals of silver bells. "When I told him you wanted private 'woman' time, he ran to the other side of the camp." She grinned. "Besides, he doesn't know that I can't see Zevran, does he? And as far as he knows, I am armed and Zevran is not." She patted the strung bow in her lap, and for the first time since her arrival, Elissa noticed the quiver strapped to her back.

"As far as he knows?"

"What use is Zevran at guarding us if he isn't armed?" Leliana's eyes danced. "I gave him a sword."

"A bold move. He is an assassin, after all."

Leliana's eyes grew distant. "I know something of assassins," she murmured, speaking more to herself than Elissa. "If it came to it, I could deal with him."

Elissa held her breath. It was the closest she'd gotten to finding out what secret the Chantry sister had in her past. But Leliana fell silent and didn't say anything more, clearly lost in whatever memories she was recalling.

Elissa stared down into the still water. It was calm and still. Undisturbed by everything going on around it. Why couldn't her heart be like that? Why did she have to love a man who wanted her dead? "Leliana?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you can control who you love?"

Leliana stilled. Then she relaxed. "No. No, I don't."

"You can't…want to love someone?" Elissa hesitated. "Or want to not love someone?"

Leliana shook her head slowly. "That's the wonderful thing about love. It strikes where and when it wants to. And you can't do anything about it."

Elissa said nothing.

Sometime later, Leliana stiffened. A moment later, a throat cleared itself behind them making Elissa jump. "As loathe I am to disturb such a pretty sight, perhaps you should be heading back to camp? Before Alistair thinks I have slit both your throats and run off?"

"Zevran." Elissa looked up at the dark shadow above her, and could just make out his face. "Thank you."

"No, it is I who should thank you. For giving me such a pretty sight to watch." His teeth flashed white.

Elissa sighed. "Is it possible to have a serious conversation with you?"

"Let me think." A slender finger tapped his cheek. "No."

"Just checking," she said wryly.

Leliana climbed to her feet. "We'll be right behind you, Zevran."

He pouted. "Fine. Deprive me of my joy." He smirked, and then vanished into the trees.

The minstrel held her hand out to help Elissa to her feet.

Elissa took it. "Leliana?" She could feel her cheeks colouring. "About the thing with Alistair? I don't…could you…"

"Of course. I'll deal with it, discreetly," Leliana promised. "Now, come on. Or Alistair really will think Zevran has killed us both."


	15. A Touch

**Title:** **Forged In Fire**

**Rating:** M (for violence and language)

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

**Disclaimer + Notes:** Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers _lilpumpkingirl_ and _analect _for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things_. _They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative, positive and anything in between) are always welcome, and I do respond to each review individually.

Response to Anonymous (Stella)'s Review: I wouldn't either, in her position. But Elissa has been brought up somewhat differently. While she doesn't like Duncan, I don't think she really thought he had _sinister_ intentions. Besides which, it would spoil the point of the fic if she did take the out, no?

* * *

><p>Chapter 15 – A Touch<p>

_Thud. Thud._

_Shake. Shake._

_The ground trembles as they pass,_

_A thousand thousand fold of men,_

_Watching, and waiting,_

_For their turn to die._

_Thud. Thud._

_Shake. Sha-_

∞ '_The Stories of War' by Aileen DeMimen, p136 _

_The camp bed beneath her was hard and not particularly comfortable, but a cool contrast to the heated body lying on top of her. She could dimly hear the pounding of the rain against the canvas tent, but cared far more about the thud of his heart and the slide of his hands across her bare back. Sweat coated both their skins, and the smell of sex already lingered in the air. Their tongues duelled, filling her mouth with his familiar, unique taste. _

_She pulled away to gasp for breath. "I love you."_

_A slow smile touched the corners of his lips and he shifted, his leg trapping hers to the bed. She wrapped one hand in the dark hair and the other around his shoulders, tugging him closer. A sudden, bright burst of pain exploded in her stomach. She gasped, flinching away. He let her go. She looked down, and saw the jewelled hilt of a dagger emerging from her abdomen. A thick black liquid tinged with red was slowly seeping from the wound, staining her skin like ashes and wine. She stared down at it. _

_Finding it hard to breathe, she raised disbelieving eyes to meet the blue eyes of her lover._

"_Just relax." His hand stroked her cheek softly. "It will all be over soon." _

_With a quick movement that made her scream, he jerked the blade from her body. A river of black-red blood gushed out, spilling onto the white sheets around her._

_Elissa could feel her strength draining away as her head started to spin. Desperately, she pressed her fingers against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. She opened her mouth, trying to say something, but the words wouldn't come to her._

_He leaned down and kissed her sweetly, gently, as though he had all the time in the world, and then pulled her fingers away from her midriff, allowing her blood to flow freely. _

_She grasped weakly at his shoulders. "Loghain…" _

_He pushed her back down, shaking his head slowly. "Just let go, Elissa. Don't fight it."_

_Already dizzy from blood loss, Elissa barely had the strength to panic as her vision started to go black. Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears, and she knew every pulse was bringing her closer to death. Then everything faded, and she was falling into an abyss._

Elissa woke suddenly. Her hands went instinctively to her abdomen, but there was no wound, no blood, corrupted or otherwise, and she was alone in her tent, save for the heavy warmth of Duke draped along her side and her chest. Her heart slowed in its race as she took deep breaths, listening to Alistair's snores echoing through the camp and overlaying the crackle of the outside fire that cast shadows on the tent walls.

It was no surprise she'd dreamed of that, she supposed. Between Duke's weight on her chest and the revelations Zevran had brought the day before, she should have expected it.

In his sleep, the hound growled softly, and his ears twitched. She wrapped her arms around him, soothing him back into a deeper sleep. She was safe here, surrounded by her companions. She closed her own eyes, hoping she wouldn't dream of Loghain.

_A lightly tanned man stood at the edge of a cliff, staring out across the raging sea. Relentless white waves rose into the air and smashed their fury upon the immoveable rocks below. Above, the black clouds swirled angrily, a single solid covering from horizon to horizon. The man's blue eyes were equally volatile, and his fists were clenched by his side. Full lips were pressed together in a thin line, and he swallowed convulsively._

_A voice was raised to be heard over the shrieking sounds of the storm. "Brother."_

_Another man approached, wrapped in a heavy cloak but with the hood tossed back. They both had the same high cheekbones, but this one had long red hair instead of the storm-watcher's black hair._

"_What is it?" The first man's voice was emotionless, despite the quivering tension that was making his entire body tremble._

"_Are you sure this is a good idea? She would not want you to mourn-" the other began._

_The dark-haired man whirled, his grey robes flapping around his legs. "And why should I not? You don't know what you're talking about, _brother. _You've never lost anyone!"_

_The new arrival's face tightened, but he took a deep breath. "Because your daughter needs you."_

"_My…daughter?"_

_In response, the second man threw back his cloak to reveal a tiny wrapped bundle in his arms, huddling against his body in search of protection against the cold wind. "We managed to save her."_

"_Little one," the first man breathed, reaching out for the bundle. _

_His brother pulled away. "No. Not till you let that go." He nodded first at the storm raging behind them, and then at the lightning sparking along the other's skin._

_Scowling, the raven-haired man closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and let it out. Slowly, the harsh lines on his face softened. The pounding rain slowed, and then stopped. The lightning faded away, and he opened his eyes again. Above them, the clouds still loomed in the sky, and the waves below had not completely calmed. But it was enough, and he reached for his daughter._

_There was a clanging in her ears, like the sound of dwarven war gongs. Abruptly, the scene vanished. Elissa found herself in a ghostly body, hovering above the same deep trench that she'd already seen in her dreams. It was just as hot as she remembered and it felt like the wind was ripping the skin off her face. The filth had spread, the purple stain looking remarkably similar to the slime from the Circle Tower, and now it crept up the walls of the trench. The Archdemon was perched on a ledge, its bat-like wings spread for balance as it shrieked its ear-deafening cry. Every time it breathed fire, the light lit up the trench, revealing rows of seemingly endless armour-clad darkspawn. _

_The Archdemon's menacing mental presence pressed against her mind, an overwhelming weight that threatened to nearly crush her. It was like the feeling she'd had in the tower for the split second before Uldred had overwhelmed her system with pain. _

_There was a roar, a response from the gathered darkspawn that sent chills down Elissa's spine. The dragon half-reared, its wings flapping, and then crashed down again. Dust billowed from the ground where it landed. It hissed, its long forked tongue flickering, tasting the air. _

"…_find…victory…"_

_Electricity sprayed from its mouth as it roared. There was a piercing scream as a genlock died, roasted by its own master. The other darkspawn didn't react to the death, eyes riveted to the hissing dragon. _

"…_life…"_

_The muscles in the powerful hind legs rippled and then the beast was airborne. In the immense cavern, it could not go very high, but as its shadow swept over her, Elissa shuddered. A crawling sensation crept up her spine._

_A scream echoed through the cavern, reverberating off the walls. "Mine!"_

Elissa shot up in her bedroll, her heart pounding. The first dawn light was streaming in through the canvas, and outside the birds were greeting the dawn. Duke, woken from his sleep by her movement, licked her hand affectionately. Shakily, she stroked his head.

She flopped back down, wincing as her back connected with the hard ground. Two more dreams. One, clearly the product of her overly tired subconscious, and the other… the Archdemon. That was the third time this week alone. But it was the first time, since that very first dream, where she'd understood the dragon. She'd hoped it was a fluke, but it seemed not. In fact, she'd understood more this time than before. And Wardens weren't supposed to understand the Archdemon at all, unless they were near their 'Calling' as Alistair had called it. Had something gone wrong with the damned ritual Duncan had put her through? Was she dying faster than the Wardens normally did? She swallowed. Or was there something different about her, something that made her understand the creature?

Resolutely she pushed the thoughts aside. If she was dying early, there was nothing they could do about it. Not when none of them actually knew what the Joining was. Wynne had known the magical component and that was it, so she wouldn't be any help either. And until she could understand the Archdemon enough to actually comprehend what it was saying properly, it didn't make any difference.

_Right. Enough of this. _

Elissa pushed herself up onto her feet, and struggled into her clothes. Duke waited patiently at her side, and then followed her out into the cool morning air.

Alistair looked up from the campfire, where he was on the last guard shift. He eyed her warily. "Good morning."

She'd gone nearly straight to bed after getting back with Leliana, and she supposed she shouldn't be surprised if all of her companions tiptoed around her today. "Morning. No signs of anything?" She glanced at Zevran's tent.

He shook his head. "Not even a peep. Or from the darkspawn."

Elissa sat down next to the fire, and poured herself a cup of boiling water, into which she tipped the herbs for her morning tea. She glanced at the other tents, seeing no sign of movement. It was barely dawn, and although her companions would start waking soon, it was a little early, she supposed. Still, they'd need to get moving soon if they wanted to arrive in Redcliffe later that day.

"Elissa…Lady…"

"Yes?" She knew her surprise showed in her voice. He hadn't used her title in weeks, since those first few days after their escape from Ostagar.

Alistair's neck was flushed red, and he didn't meet her eyes. "I…uh…wanted to apologise."

Elissa could feel her own face turning red. Ah. Leliana had spoken to him then. "It's all righ-"

"I didn't know," Alistair rushed on. "I-I wouldn't hav-I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's not your fault." Elissa looked down. "And you didn't make me uncomfortable, exactly. It's just-"

"You don't need to explain," he said hastily.

There were several moments of silence, as neither of them dared look at the either. Then Alistair broke the silence. "Elissa?"

"Hm?" She could still feel the warmth in her cheeks.

"You were King Cailan's friend," he began.

Elissa took a deep breath. "Yes."

"What…was he like? If you don't mind…"

She gave him a startled look. Of course, he would never have met his half-brother. And the curiosity was only natural. In hindsight, she was surprised he'd lasted this long without asking. "I can talk about it," she said quietly. As long as she focused on the good memories, anyway. She leaned back on her hands and smiled. "Cailan was…bright and happy, I suppose. Always bubbly. Quick to laugh and smile. He was my best friend." She laughed. "He tried to teach me to fence when I was eight. It didn't work very well, but he did try. And it convinced my father to allow his knights to train me. And he loved practical jokes. He hid all my clothes when I was twelve, and I was forced to wear the few dresses he left me for the rest of the day. I wanted to kill him." Maric had been furious with Cailan, and she still remembered the profuse apologies the king had made to Bryce and the forced 'apology' from Cailan that lost its effect when he was grinning the whole way through. "It took the servants nearly six hours to find them all again. They weren't very happy about it, of course, but it didn't take him long to charm his way back into their good graces." And their beds. Her smile faded slightly.

"He sounds perfect." The words were bland.

Elissa glanced at him, suddenly aware of what her words had sounded like. Alistair would have spent his life being told he wasn't good enough to be Cailan's brother, and now… "No. He wasn't perfect." She eyed him carefully. She could, test the waters, so to speak. "Cailan didn't like the responsibilities of ruling, so he…ignored them."

Alistair's eyes widened. "But Ferelden has prospered in the past few years."

"Queen Anora is a very competent administrator. She has effectively ruled since her marriage to Cailan." Elissa shook her head. "Cailan was obsessed with stories about the old heroes. I think he would have been happier as a Warden than a king." She watched him carefully.

If she hadn't been watching so closely, she wouldn't have caught the shiver. He opened his mouth to respond, and then froze as one of the tents rustled.

Leliana's head poked out, as she covered a yawn with her hand. "Morning, all. What's for breakfast?"

Elissa could have cheerfully killed her.

Elissa stood at the top of the hill, looking down and out over the valley below. The smudge of grey stone that she knew was Redcliffe Castle was nestled at the far end, just beside the lake, and was surrounded by the spider-web of houses and farms. A stream rushed past them on the right, churning and twisting over the rocks as it made its way towards the harbour. Distantly, she could hear the crash of the water plunging over a waterfall.

"Have you recovered from your lapse in sanity?" Morrigan's voice asked.

Elissa gave the witch a surprised look. "I apologised for what I said to you yesterday." She paused. "You did hear me, right?"

"Yes, I heard you." Morrigan waved it off. "I meant your bout of hysterics last night." Her lip curled.

"My hyst-" Ah. She meant the running off on her own. "Yes."

"Good. I was starting to wonder if I had been mistaken about you." Morrigan sniffed.

Elissa sighed. "Morrigan."

A throat cleared itself nearby, and Elissa turned to look at Alistair.

His eyes were fixed on the castle, and then moved back to her. "Look, can I talk to you for a moment? In private." He glared at Morrigan.

"Morrigan, could you give us a moment?"

The mage rolled her eyes. "There is nothing he should be saying to you that he can't say to the rest of us." She sighed at Elissa's glare. "Oh very well."

Elissa waited for her to move out of range, and then turned. "What's on your mind?"

"There's something I need to tell you that I, ah, should probably have told you a long time ago." He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

Elissa held her breath. Was he finally going to admit who he was?

"I told you before about how Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl at the castle, and he took me in." He ducked his head, and took a deep breath. "The reason he did that was because, well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan…my half-brother I suppose."

She eyed his apprehensive expression, and then said gently, "I know."

His eyes shot up to hers. "You…know?" he croaked.

"Cailan was my best friend, and I spent quite a bit of time with King Maric." She smiled. "You look a lot like your father."

Alistair looked like he'd had the air knocked out of him. "You knew…the whole time?"

"Not the whole time. I didn't work it out till after my Joining."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

She shrugged. "You never mentioned it. I assumed you had a reason for not wanting me to know."

"I would have told you, but..." Alistair looked away. "I'm used to not saying anything about it. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule and so they kept me secret. And…everyone who knew either resented me for it, or they coddled me…even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I guess I didn't want you to know, for as long as possible. It's just that anyone who's ever found out treated me differently afterwards, as the bastard prince instead of just Alistair. I'm sorry."

"I understand." She had guessed it would be something like that. But…did he realise he was in line to the throne? It was obvious, and yet, he seemed oblivious to the fact that Cailan was dead and he was next in line.

His smile was relieved. "Good. I'm glad."

She eyed him. Time to take the plunge. "You do realise, though, that you are the heir to the throne?"

He gaped at her. "Maker's breath, I hope not! I don't think so…you don't think so, do you? I'm a bastard and no-one even knows about me."

"You are Cailan's closest blood relative," she said gently.

He shook his head vigorously. "I'm the son of a commoner. It was always made clear that the throne is not in my future. I'm okay with that." He brightened. "No, if there is an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon himself. He's not of royal blood but he's Cailan's uncle, and more importantly, very popular with the people."

Elissa refrained from snorting. Popular with the people? Perhaps with the people of his own Arling. Most of Ferelden's population didn't care about any Arl other than their own, and the nobles were not particularly fond of Eamon. He was respected as the King's uncle and one of his advisors, but he wasn't the all-powerful being that Alistair seemed to think. He did have the largest standing army, now that Cailan had died with his half of the army, so it had been a logical decision to come to him, but for his military strength rather than his political pull. On the other hand, now that the Couslands and the royal family were gone, perhaps Eamon was the only one with the political power to challenge Loghain. It was why they were headed in his direction after all.

Alistair's face fell. "Though…if he's really as sick as we've heard…no, I don't want to think about that." He shuddered. "I really don't."

"So, the Chantry boy is actually a bastard prince," Morrigan drawled.

Elissa's head jerked up, to see Morrigan standing only a short distance away with a smirk. Elissa cursed inwardly. She hadn't even noticed the witch's approach. Thankfully, the others were all out of earshot, although Morrigan would probably spread the news just to embarrass Alistair.

"It was a private conversation," Alistair snapped.

"Hardly private here." Morrigan glanced around at the open space pointedly. "And in any case, is not your identity something we all should know? As it is as likely to get us all in trouble as all your Grey Wardening."

Alistair spluttered.

Elissa looked around desperately, and then met Leliana's eyes. She glanced at Morrigan, and then back at Leliana.

The minstrel shook her head and then loudly cleared her throat. "You are very beautiful Morrigan."

Elissa nearly choked. Had Leliana misinterpreted her silent begging?

The witch sniffed. "Tell me something I do not know."

"But you are always dressed in such rags." Leliana tilted her head. "It suits you I suppose…a little tear here, a little rip there to show some skin. I understand."

Elissa muffled a laugh. She could see where this was going. _Oh, Leliana…_

Morrigan turned her nose up. "You understand I lived in a forest, I hope."

"Maybe we could get you in a nice dress one day." Leliana clapped her hands. "Silk…no, maybe velvet. Velvet is heavier, better to guard against the cold in Ferelden."

Elissa could vouch for that. All her winter dresses were velvets, brocade and heavy satin. Only in heated castles and houses could she wear silks. Fires were kept burning in the rooms throughout winter so the castle could be warm enough. Even in summer, the weather was mild enough to keep her in thicker materials when outside.

"Dark red velvet, yes, with gold embroidery…" Leliana mused. "It should be cut low in the front of course. We don't want to hide your features."

Morrigan crossed her arms across her chest. "Stop looking at my breasts like that. 'Tis most disturbing."

"You don't think so?" Leliana pouted for a moment. "And if it's cut low in the front, we must put your hair up, show off that lovely neck…"

The mage backed away. "You are insane. I saw what you did to Elissa's hair! I would sooner let Alistair dress me!"

"Hey!" he objected.

Elissa lost the battle to withhold her snort.

"Elissa's hair looks wonderful." Leliana followed Morrigan's retreat. "It'll be fun, I promise! We'll get some shoes too!" She tossed a look back at Elissa over her shoulder and winked. Then she turned back to Morrigan and gasped. "Shoes! We could go shopping together!"

Morrigan's outline shimmered and a hawk was airborne.

"Very well done." Zevran clapped his hands.

Elissa ignored Alistair's tensing beside her.

"I was serious." Leliana didn't bother holding back her smile. "She would look good in a red velvet dress."

"I don't think she appreciated the thought." Elissa laughed.

The hawk swooped down again. Morrigan crouched in the middle of the road, and straightened. Ignoring the others pointedly, she turned to Elissa. "There is a man over the ridge."

"What is he doing?"

"Waiting for something, I imagine." Her eyes narrowed. "Or someone."

Elissa glanced at her suddenly sobered companions. Without a word, Alistair settled his shield on his left arm and rested his right on his sword. Leliana's bow was already in her hand. Zevran, on the other hand…before Elissa had gone to sleep the night before, he'd handed back the blade Leliana had given him the night before with a smart remark. But it meant now he was unarmed.

Wordlessly, she knelt and reached into her backpack. She pulled free the longsword and dagger they'd confiscated from him, and flipped them to offer him the hilts. There was a shuffle nearby as Wynne refrained from speaking, although her disapproval seemed to hang in the air.

Zevran's smile reached his eyes as he took them from her with a half bow. He slid them into the scabbards with a scraping sound. "My thanks."

"Don't stab us in the back," Alistair growled.

Zevran smiled mildly. "I will make sure I do it from the front, then."

Elissa started walking, knowing they would follow and stop quibbling. There was a scramble as the others moved to catch up.

Topping the rise, Elissa looked down at the waterfall she'd heard before. A stone bridge arched over it, and the man Morrigan had seen stood there. He seemed alone, but Elissa had learnt not to judge too quickly. They would still need to be careful.

She descended the slope, and approached the man, one hand on Duke's collar. Bandages were wrapped around his right arm and left leg, showing he'd been in a fight recently.

As he spotted her, the young man's face lit up. "I…I thought I saw travellers coming down the road. I could scarcely believe it. Have you come to help us?"

"Help you?" Elissa frowned, her muscles relaxing slightly as he didn't seem to be a threat. "Is there something wrong?"

"So you…don't know?" Horror painted his expression, and his spirits visibly fell. "Hasn't anybody out there heard?"

"I've heard Arl Eamon is sick, if that's what you mean?" she said carefully.

"He could be dead for all we know. No-one's heard from the castle in days." His voice grew panicked. "We're under attack. Monsters come out from the castle every night and attack us till dawn. Everyone's been fighting, and dying."

Elissa stiffened. _Monsters?_

"Well, that's just typical, isn't it?" Zevran drawled.

Morrigan rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. "First the mages and now this. Apparently, everyone seems to agree that a Blight is the perfect time to start killing each other. Marvellous, really."

The man ignored them. "We've no army to defend us, no Arl and no king to send us help. So many are dead, and those left are terrified they're next!"

"Hold on." Elissa frowned. "What is this evil attacking you?" Did they have the time to stop here? If Eamon couldn't help them, they needed to be on their way to find someone else. And yet, could she leave all these poor villagers to die?

"I…I don't rightly know; I'm sorry." He shook his head. "Nobody does. I should take you to Bann Teagan. He's all that's holding us together. He'll want to see you."

"Bann Teagan?" Alistair was surprised enough to speak. "Arl Eamon's brother? He's here?"

"Yes. It's not far. If you'll follow me?"

Elissa exchanged looks for her companions, and then followed him across the bridge and down the twisting mountains towards the village. Beside the narrow path was a steep drop off into the glittering blue lake, clear enough to see schools of silver fish darting beneath the surface. Sea gulls cawed and their tiny white shapes fluttered over the harbour. Redcliffe was a fishing village after all, and the gulls would be attracted to the refuse.

"Anyone up for a bit of naked cliff diving?" Zevran asked.

Elissa twisted around to look at him. "Cliff diving? I've not heard…"

"No?" He pointed to the grassy edge ahead of them. "You leap off a tall cliff, just like this one here, into the water below. Have you never tried it?"

Elissa eyed the water, shimmering far below them. "You just jump off? Isn't that a bit…dangerous?" It was far, far higher than anything Fergus had ever shoved her off.

"But of course. That is half the fun, no? Where is the thrill without a little risk?" He grinned.

"If you say so." She glanced at him. "Why naked?"

He laughed. "Anything is improved if done naked." He sidled closer to her, ignoring Alistair's tensing behind them. "So, what do you say? Shall we take a jump together? I could hold you close if you are scared…" He batted his eyelids.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Zevran. But I think I'll pass."

He was undaunted as he turned to the side. "Alistair? What of you? I could hold on to your big, strong, manly…"

"Zevran!" Wynne's voice was disapproving.

Zevran's eyes widened innocently. "I was just going to say muscles."

"Really?" Elissa raised an eyebrow, her own voice heavy with disbelief.

"What do you take me for?" Zevran's injured tone was almost believable, if it wasn't for the wicked smirk on his lips.

Alistair coughed, his ears bright red. "Uh, no thanks, Zevran." Up ahead of them, their guide was pointedly not listening.

The assassin sighed. "Pity. Ah well, 'tis your loss." He winked. "I am well known for my…cliff diving skills."

"I'm sure you are," Elissa said dryly.

Clearly trying to change the subject, Leliana pointed to the windmill they'd just passed. "I once took a ride on the sails of a windmill. Didn't turn out so well."

Zevran stared up at the slowly rotating wings. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"It sounds like the sort of thing you'd enjoy, assassin," Morrigan drawled.

"No, no." He waved his hands. "I am insulted. Everything I do has a purpose. And I can see no purpose in simply going around and around in a slow circle." He brightened. "Unless you were with someone else?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Leliana, you sly girl."

"Ha ha." Leliana frowned at him. "No, I wasn't. I, uh, needed a fast way down from the top of the windmill."

"Why? What happened?" Alistair appeared to have recovered from his embarrassment.

She looked a little uncomfortable. "A…friend was chasing me, and I needed to get to the bottom before her. But the sail ripped and although I did get down faster, I managed to break a leg."

"A friend?" Zevran waggled his eyebrows again.

"Do you think of anything other than…sex?" Alistair demanded, his cheeks turning bright red again.

He cocked his head. "Killing people?"

Alistair threw his hands up. "I don't believe you." He looked like he would stalk away for a moment, and then realised that doing so would leave Elissa with the assassin. He scowled and crossed his arms.

"Tis a pity." Zevran stepped closer to Leliana. "The opportunities for an imaginative couple, or three…"

"Not a chance." Leliana rolled her eyes.

By now they'd made it into the village itself. Their guide led them past frightened men practicing archery, their arrows going wide. Elissa shook her head. These men were not warriors. Farmhands and fishermen by the look of it, certainly not the knights of Redcliffe who should have been protecting the people of the village.

As it became clear that the Chantry was their destination, Elissa braced herself. It was hardly the first time she'd been in a Chantry since her kidnapping, but she'd never be quite comfortable in one. Weeping women and children were huddled in small groups, and one girl barely out of her teens was near the door, her crying somewhat louder than the rest. Injured men were being tended by their wives. Over it all hung a despair, as though they were merely waiting for the inevitable end.

At the end of the main hall, near the altar, a brown-haired man in the fine travelling clothes of a noble was speaking to one of the 'soldiers'. At their approach, he turned. It was Bann Teagan, although a much more haggard and stressed version of the man than the one she remembered from her time in Denerim. At close range his clothes were visibly crumpled and dirty, as though he'd worn them for several days.

His eyes swept them and then he smiled at their young guide. "It's….Tomas, yes? And who are these people with you? They're obviously not simple travellers."

"No, my lord." Tomas bowed his head deferentially. "They just arrived and I thought you would want to see them."

"Thank you, Tomas." The bann turned towards them. "Greetings, friends. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the Arl."

Before Elissa could say anything, Alistair stepped forward. "I remember you, Bann Teagan. Though the last time we met, I was a lot younger and…covered in mud."

Elissa raised an eyebrow. That sounded like there was a story behind it. A story she would dearly love to know. She tugged off her gauntlets and hung them at her waist.

"Covered in mud?" Teagan frowned. "Alistair? It is you, isn't it? You're alive! That's wonderful news."

Ah. The bann must know that Alistair had been recruited into the Grey Wardens. So there was no chance of hiding who they were. At least Teagan didn't seem like he was about to have them arrested and sent off to Denerim.

"Still alive, yes." Alistair's face was grim. "Though not for long if Teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it."

"Indeed." Teagan shook his head. "Loghain would have us believe that all Grey Wardens died along with my nephew, among other people."

Elissa's eyes narrowed. "You don't believe Loghain's lies, my lord?"

Teagan turned towards her. "What? That he pulled his men to save them? That Cailan risked everything in the name of glory? Hardly." He snorted." Loghain calls the Grey Wardens traitors, murderers of the king. I don't believe it. It's the act of a desperate man." His gaze swept her figure and his brow creased for a moment. "Is it possible that we've met? You look very familiar."

"I should imagine so, my lord. We've partnered at several balls and you knew my father." Unable to curtsey in armour, she offered him the correct bow and then held out her hand.

"Your fath-"Realisation dawned in his eyes and his forehead smoothed. "Lady Elissa." He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "It has been a hard few days and I didn't recognise you, my la-" He broke off. "Your Grace. Forgive me. My condolences on your loss."

Elissa flinched. Maker! She hadn't even thought about that, or not in those terms at least. With Fergus missing, or dead, she was technically Teyrna of Highever. "I am not the Teyrna, my lord." She half expected Zevran to react, but he didn't. Clearly he'd been told exactly who she was.

"I know Loghain has declared Howe the Teyrn, but-" He frowned at her look of horror. "Your Grace?"

"He-" She cleared her throat. "He named _Howe_ Teyrn?" Fury bubbled in her chest, like a pot about to boil, and she didn't know at whom she was angrier: Loghain or Howe.

"You did not know?"

"No," she whispered.

"Ah. Howe was named Teyrn the day I left Denerim to return here." Teagan looked apologetic.

She gritted her teeth. _You absolute bastard! _She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them again.

He looked puzzled. "I don't understand. If you didn't know about Howe…Loghain reports your brother missing, and with the…events at Highever…you are the heir, no?"

"I am a Grey Warden, my lord." _And thus House Cousland falls into nothing more than a memory__._

"Ah." He sighed. "I see. That does pose a problem."

Eager to leave the topic behind, she prompted, "I was hoping to see the Arl…"

Teagan shook his head. "While ordinarily I would be happy to escort you to him, Eamon is currently gravely ill."

"What a remarkable coincidence." Zevran did not look impressed.

"No one has heard from the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts." Teagan sighed. "The attacks started nearly two weeks ago. Evil…things…surged from the castle. They were driven back, but many perished from the assault."

"The monsters Tomas spoke of?"

The nobleman shuddered. "Some call them the walking dead; decomposing corpses returning to life…with a hunger for human flesh.

Elissa glanced over her shoulder at Morrigan.

The witch shrugged. "Undead. Spirits possessing the dead. There could be several causes behind such a thing, none of them pleasant."

"How do you kill something that's already dead?" Elissa eyed her.

"Cut them into small enough pieces and they can't get up again," Teagan said grimly. "At any rate, they hit again the next night." Teagan sighed. "Every night they come, in greater and greater numbers. With Cailan dead, and Loghain starting a war over the throne, no-one responds to my urgent calls for help."

Leliana looked around. "I saw only villagers and farm-hands in the town outside. Does Redcliffe not have its own soldiers?"

Teagan pressed his lips together. "Normally we would have an army of knights. Those few who have returned from their quest are watching up near the windmill, but most are still on their quest. You know of this, yes?"

Elissa vaguely remembered Alistair mentioning something about it in Lothering. "A search for… Andraste's ashes?"

"Yes." Teagan nodded. "Eamon's illness was…is very serious. The arlessa, out of desperation, sent the knights on question for the cure. I…question Isolde's decision to send so many knights in search of this relic, but I am a practical man, whereas she is a woman of great faith." He rocked his weight onto his back leg. "I have a feeling tonight's attack will be the worst yet." He glanced between Alistair and Elissa. "My lady, I hate to do this, but I desperately need the help of you and your friends."

Alistair bit his lower lip. "The Grey Wardens don't stand much chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon." He looked hopefully at her.

Elissa glanced around at the tired, frightened villagers. With shoulders slumped, they looked like they were an inch from giving up. Her heart-strings twanged. Her father's voice, in one of her earliest lessons, floated into her mind, _a nobleman's first duty is to protect his people._ These helpless men and women weren't exactly her people, but she could hardly let them die. "Of course we'll help."

Morrigan scoffed. "How pointless, to help these villages fight an impossible battle. One would think we had enough to contend with elsewhere."

"Thank you!" The relief on Teagan's face was almost embarrassing. "Thank you…this means more to me than you can guess. Tomas, please tell Murdock what transpired, and then you may return to your post."

"Yes, my lord." The man bowed, and hurried towards the main doors.

"Now then, there is much to do before night falls. I've put two men in charge of the defence outside…"

Elissa sighed. "Alistair, I'll be fine."

Morrigan and Leliana had already gone to 'convince' a recalcitrant mercenary to join the fight. He'd spent the last week hiding in his house, despite entreaties to help. Wynne was trying to soothe injuries and knit bones back together in the Chantry, and now Alistair was resisting heading off to convince the grieving blacksmith to open up the forge.

"But," he began.

She sighed in exasperation. "I'm wearing plate armour and Duke will be with me. If Zevran tries to kill me, he won't get very far. Now go."

He gave her a dubious look, and then glared at Zevran. "If you hurt her…"

Zevran waved a hand, looking entirely unconcerned. "Yes, yes, you will rip me to shreds and bite my head off." A slow grin spread on his face. "It is normally fathers who react like that to their daughter's suitors…do you think of our dear leader as your daughter, Alistair?"

Elissa winced. Alistair spluttered, and turned red.

"Right," she said hastily. "Let's go Zevran." She tugged lightly at Duke's collar and he padded beside her obediently as they made their way up the mountain in the direction Teagan had said the nearest inn was. Hopefully they could find someone who could shed a little light on the events. Behind them, she could still hear Alistair trying not to choke on his own tongue. Elissa glanced at her elven companion. "You shouldn't tease him like that."

"Why not?" Zevran laughed.

"You're just like Morrigan, you know."

Zevran grinned. "Comparing a Crow to a marsh witch? I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered."

"Speaking of the Crows, I know you said you wanted out. But why exactly?"

"Well now, I imagine that's a very good question." He tilted his head. "Being an assassin, after all, is a living as far as things go. I was simply never given an opportunity to choose another way. So if an opportunity presents itself, why should I not grab onto it?"

Elissa eyed him. "So…you're simply bored?"

He laughed. "I don't know that I would put it that way. I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased. For three sovereigns I'm told. Which is a good price, considering that I was skin and bones, and didn't know the pointy end of a dagger from the pommel." He showed his teeth. "The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them up to know only murder, and if you do poorly at your training, you die."

She shuddered. "That sounds awful."

"Oh, I don't know about that." He shrugged. "The Crows who are actually good enough to survive come to enjoy some of the benefits. In Antiva, being a Crow brings you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you men…and women, whatever it is you might fancy." He winked at her. "But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And being expendable. It's a cage, if a gilded cage. Pretty, but confining."

Rather like being a noblewoman, she thought grimly. A beautiful, luxurious cage, but a cage nonetheless. But it had been a cage she thought she'd escaped, finding a husband who would let her indulge her interests and be something more than arm dressing. With her parents' death and her recruitment into the Grey Wardens, she was now well and truly out of the cage. Only, now she really wanted to climb back in, shut the door behind her and hide her head in her pillows.

"As for what I'll do in the future," he continued. "Presuming there is one…I really can't imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself. Far from Antiva, obviously. For now, naturally, I go where you go." He swept her a gallant bow.

Up ahead was the tavern, perched on the edge of yet another cliff. A stable nearby was empty of horses, despite being clean enough that it was clear it had regular use. Elissa headed down the path leading to the painted tavern door.

She pushed open the door and made her way inside. It swung closed behind Zevran with a soft _snick_. The soft murmur of voices filled the room, echoing off wooden walls. A barmaid was kneeling near one of the tables, scrubbing diligently at a stain on the floor. A large man relaxed behind the bar, one eye fixed on the maid and the other on the group of men seated at one of the far tables.

Zevran stepped forward, so his voice could reach her ear. "The elf in the corner."

Elissa turned her head. The elf Zevran meant was seated in the corner nearest the door, nursing a tankard of ale. "He looks normal to me."

Zevran shook his head. "Look at his eyes, watching everyone. And he looks guilty. Let me see what I can find out?"

Slowly, she nodded.

His eyes flickered up at their approach and he glared at them. "Not looking for company," he snapped.

Elissa's spine stiffened, and she could almost feel her hackles rising. _Company? _Duke growled deep in his throat.

Zevran slinked forward, cat-like in his movements. "Are you with the militia, friend?" His tone was light, pleasant.

"No. Why should I?" he demanded. "I don't live here."

"Then what _are_ you doing here?" Zevran raised an eyebrow. "You are no merchant, or mercenary. And I doubt you are a priestess."

"I'm just waiting until I can leave again." The elf evaded the question. "What is it to you?"

Zevran ignored him in turn, and leaned closer in. His voice dropped, becoming lower and with a tinge of violence to it. "Who are you?"

He was treating the other elf as a target, Elissa realised. Interrogating him. Only without the blood and torture instruments she suspected her companion was used to using. She shifted a little uncomfortably.

"I'm not here to talk." The quarry tipped the tankard back, gulping down the contents.

"You're just here to act suspiciously then." Zevran crossed his arms.

The elf's eyes shot up. "What? I-I'm not acting suspiciously."

"Oh, well now, that was convincing," the assassin drawled.

"Look now, your mistress is pretty and all but I was told to-" He suddenly seemed to realise what he was saying and swallowed hastily. "Er, leave me alone."

Elissa pounced. "What do you mean? What were you told to do?" Was this man responsible for the monsters? For Eamon's illness?

"Nothing." The elf glanced around, as though hoping for someone to rescue him. "Nobody told me to do anything. Just because you're a Grey Warden doesn't mean you can go around threatening people."

"And how do you know the lady is a Grey Warden?" Zevran took back control of the conversation.

Elissa glanced nervously at the other patrons, but they didn't seem to notice the argument going on over here.

"Uh." The elf's eyes darted around again nervously. "I, uh, just overheard it, that's all. If you'll excuse me…. I want to get to the Chantry before the sun goes down." He set down the tankard and made to stand.

Zevran's hand was suddenly against his chest, pushing him back down to the seat. "This will be much easier if you just tell me what you're hiding."

There wasn't even an attempt at hiding the menace this time, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. This was the assassin, not the joking and inappropriate elf they'd spent the last thirty hours with. For a moment, Elissa wondered if she'd made the right decision in handing him weapons. A man this cold would have no issue with sinking a blade into her back one night.

"If I-but I never-" he stammered. Then he swallowed. "Oh, all right, I'll tell you. Just don't hurt me."

"I won't if you talk." Zevran's dark eyes were cold.

"Look, they just paid me to watch the castle, and report any changes," the elf said quickly. "They didn't say anything about monsters! I haven't even been able to report anything since this all started. I'm stuck, same as you. I swear!"

Was Eamon's illness was intentional then? And the monsters? "_Who_ told you?"

The elf, whom she now realised was barely more than a teen, cringed and looked away.

"Answer the lady's question," Zevran growled.

"A tall fellow, I forget his name. He said he was working for Howe. Arl Rendon Howe. He's an important man, Teyrn Loghain's right hand. So I'm not doing anything wrong."

"When was this?" Elissa's eyes narrowed. "When were you told?"

"Three weeks ago."

After Ostagar, then. Loghain and Howe, if Teagan was to be believed, were already working together by then. Was Loghain involved in this…whatever it was? "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Their target fumbled in his pockets and came out with a folded piece of parchment. "Look, here's the letter from him, with instructions and everything…keep it. Do whatever you want with it! I just thought I was serving the king and making a little coin on the side. Please," he begged, "you have to believe me."

Elissa glanced at Zevran, who shrugged minutely.

"I don't think I want you to go very far just yet." The chill in her own voice surprised her. "You should head down to the Chantry and stay there for now. Just to be sure."

Panic swept across the elf's face. "Oh…" He swallowed bravely. "All right. I'll do it. Thank you for your mercy, I won't forget it."

As he scurried out, Elissa sighed. "So Howe is not satisfied with the destruction of Highever, now he attacks Redcliffe as well? I don't understand. He cannot expect to be named Arl of Redcliffe as well…"

Zevran said nothing.

Thirty minutes later, they hastily made their way outside the tavern and back up the hill towards the windmill, where they would fight. Through the gloomy almost-darkness, Elissa could see Alistair talking and laughing with a group of knights. Morrigan hovered in the background, her gleaming yellow eyes warily watching the proceedings. Leliana and Wynne were up on the windmill balcony. It would give them the greatest possible range while keeping them out of the melee fighting.

"Just in time, Lady Elissa." one of the knights looked up as she approached. "Once dusk is upon us, they will strike." He glanced up at the sun, which had nearly completely disappeared beneath the horizon.

"Is there a plan, Ser?"

"Kill as many of the buggers as we can before we die," one of the other knights said bitterly. "And hope it's enough. Beggin' your pardon, lady."

"Now, there's a cheerful thought," Morrigan said dryly.

"The villagers are down at the Chantry?" Elissa glanced at Leliana.

The Orlesian nodded. "Though, I would not vouch for their ability at arms."

Elissa snorted, and a tense silence fell on the group. Anticipation hung in the air, mixed with the heavy stench of fear. There was no sign of life, even the birds had fled, as though they knew what was coming with the arrival of nightfall. The only sound was the rush of water as it flowed down the nearby stream, and the harsh breathing of a dozen helmeted knights.

"Here it comes!" One of the knights gestured up at the distant castle on the other side of the lake. The drawbridge was moving, and a billowing cloud of dust emerged from it. It moved down the road long faster than Elissa had ever seen clouds travel before.

"Undead." Morrigan's voice barely reached her ears. "With powerful magic behind it. I can smell it."

There was a loud scraping of metal on metal as swords were drawn and readied. Elissa jammed her helmet on, and settled her shield on her left arm. She glanced at her companions. Her eyebrows rose as she noted Zevran tipping the glowing green contents of a small vial onto his blades. Poison of some sort, she guessed, though what poison would be effective against those already dead she wasn't sure. Still, he was an Antivan and there was nothing an Antivan trusted more than his deadly concoctions.

Morrigan's voice echoed above them, and shimmering ice surrounded their blades. It steamed in the night-air, despite the chilly breeze wafting past Elissa's neck. Elissa grinned almost despite herself at the surprised knights' colourful language.

"Here they come!" Alistair's cry split the air.

"Easy, boy." Elissa gripped Duke's collar with her shield hand, keeping him from charging ahead. He growled, but waited obediently. She flexed her other hand, feeling the gauntlet move with her and close more tightly around her sword hilt.

A whistling sound announced Leliana's first arrow as it sped across the distance towards the monsters descending the hill. Only a moment behind it, a bolt of blue magic followed, and then a purple one as the two mages joined the ranged fight. The unlucky victim dropped to the ground silently. Its companions were undeterred, barely seeming to notice their fallen comrade as they flowed down towards the waiting group.

Elissa waited, judging the distance between them and their opponents. Then she let go of Duke's collar, and leapt forward in the same movement. Her blade met another with a sharp clang, and she whipped it away to strike again. She faced a corpse that had clearly been dead a few days before being brought back to life. The stench of rotting flesh turned her stomach, and she had to hold her breath as she attacked.

The monsters came in successive waves, each larger than the one before. Magical power lit up the sky and reflected off ice-sheathed blades, with the two mages draining mana potions in each snatched pause between battles. Years of training had Elissa's muscles flowing automatically from slash to thrust and back again. Unlike fighting darkspawn or demons, this was almost familiar. Whoever these men had been before their deaths, they had been well trained. Where darkspawn slashed wildly and without training, relying on speed and ferocity to get through, these corpses fought like warriors. In a way, that made it easier for Elissa. She knew which thrust would follow which chop, and could counter before the move even began.

Elissa breathed heavily as she spun, searching for a new opponent. There were none, although she could see movement on the drawbridge up ahead. But it was quiet for now, when they could all catch their breath.

"Do you think that's it?" Alistair gasped out.

Elissa nodded up at the drawbridge. "Doesn't look like it." She shook out her shield arm, which ached from the continual impact of swords and maces.

"Elissa!" Leliana shrieked.

Elissa whipped around, but was too slow to bring her sword up as a monster she'd thought was dead leaped to its feet. The blade descended towards her neck at a vicious speed. A small object crashed into the corpse, knocking it off balance and to the floor. Zevran's twin blades plunged through the gaps in the leather armour. The monster twitched once, and then slumped.

Stunned silence reigned.

Elissa cleared her throat. "Uh. Thanks."

The elf leaped up and off, turning to glance at Elissa. "Don't take your eyes off your enemies. Ever." His expression was sober for once.

Elissa nodded silently.

Heavy breathing announced the arrival of one of the militiamen before he came into sight. "The monsters," he gasped out. "They're attacking…from the harbour."

Elissa said a series of words under her breath that would have had her mother wash her mouth out with soap.

"We have to help." One of the knights made for the path.

Elissa made a split second decision. "No. There are still monsters coming over the drawbridge. Saving them below won't help if we get attacked from behind. You stay here." Ignoring his spluttering, she turned towards her companions. "Alistair, Zevran, Morrigan, you're with me. Wynne, Leliana, stay here and keep the knights alive."

Without giving anyone time to argue and without bothering to sheath her blade, she dashed down the slope. "Come on, Duke." Tiny rocks loosened by her fast descent scatter below her and she barely dodges the shower caused by the others following her down.

As they neared the village itself, Elissa could hear the sounds of desperate fighting. When they rounded the last corner, the trouble was immediately obvious. The militia were desperately fending off dozens of the monsters, but were clearly outclassed. For a moment, Elissa wondered whether she should have brought Leliana and Wynne as well. Then she didn't have time to think, as she was surrounded. Dimly, she heard the whoop that heralded Alistair's arrival, but ignored in favour of fighting for her life. She whirled from one dying enemy, searching the next, and narrowly avoided chopping off an armour-clad Bann Teagan's head.

By the time the sun peeked over the easterly horizon, Elissa felt like dropping. Eight hours of being alert and waiting, interspersed by vicious fighting, was draining. More than one of the militia had dropped from exhaustion and were currently sleeping it off. The three of them, Duke, Bann Teagan and the major had been the only ones fighting for the last hour or so, but thankfully the number of enemies had fallen as well. Now, however, she felt like collapsing.

"We survived the night," Teagan murmured.

She didn't have the energy to answer, leaning back against the Chantry wall. "Someone should go and tell the people inside they're safe." Despite her words, she didn't move.

With a groan, Alistair pushed off the wall. "I'll go." He disappeared into the building.

"You fight well, my lady."

Elissa cracked her eyes open and glanced at the bann. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have escaped Ostagar, my lord. Nor Highever."

"Touché," he inclined his head. He hesitated. "If you will forgive me for saying it, but you are very different to the Lady Elissa I knew at court."

"Am I?" Elissa closed her eyes again. "You would only have met me at balls, I suppose. Anyone looks different in armour compared to a ball-gown."

"There is more to it than that, Lady."

She glanced at him sideways. "At balls, noblewomen are expected to dance, flirt and gossip, my lord. Men are not the only ones to wear masks at court."

He glanced at her in surprise, and then sighed. "You know."

She laughed. "That your 'interest' in me three years ago was feigned? My lord, you are not a very good actor. It was easy enough to tell you had little interest in me, and only courted me because your brother wanted a Cousland connection."

"Is that why you said no? Because it was my brother?"

Elissa shook her head. "No. An arranged marriage is an arranged marriage, after all, and most men who courted me wanted the connection. The fact it was your brother rather than you meant little."

"Then why did you..."

"I wanted my freedom." She smiled. "And I have my pride, my lord. I was still girl enough to hope for a husband who would do more than deign to accept me for my family name." _And see where that got me! _Her smile faded slightly.

He blushed. Then he looked at her again. "I think," he said slowly, "that I am glad you said no, my lady."

"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow. That was not what she expected to hear.

"I like quiet, and peace. And you…you seem destined for a life of action…" He gestured around at the corpses.

"Not by choice, I assure you." Elissa shook her head.

"Even if this had not happened, I think you would have been happiest ruling a Teyrnir, or at least your husband's Arling. Rainesfere would have been too small for someone like you." He grinned, suddenly appearing a decade younger. "We would have driven each other mad."

She laughed again. "Most likely, my lord."


	16. Vanity and Hope

Title: Forged In Fire

Rating: M (for violence and language)

Warnings: none

Summary: Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

Disclaimer + Notes: Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers lilpumpkingirl and analect for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things. They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative, positive and anything in between) are always welcome, and I do respond to each review individually.

A/N: Apologies for the very long delay in posting. Hopefully I'll be a bit better at posting, now that my academic year is over.

* * *

><p>Chapter 16 – Vanity and Hope<p>

_Like the garland that crowns Midsummer's queen_

_In the depths of a drought,_

_Or the man who stands in the north and hoping for_

_A glimpse of midwinter sun_

_What is love but a faded dream,_

_Of fool girls too wealthy to be wise_

_Nothing but…a fool's hope._

¬ 'Fool's Hope' from _Despair of Love_ by Jean-Jacque Deman

"This is madness. You're in no condition to go up there. None of us are," Wynne grumbled as they climbed back up the slope towards the windmill.

Elissa sighed. "If we wait, we'll just have to fight those monsters off tonight. And we'll be in the same position tomorrow."

Or worse, more likely. Two knights and five more villagers had died in the attack.

Regardless, she knew what Wynne meant. They would probably have to fight their way through the castle, but all of them were exhausted. Wynne's eyes weren't quite glowing yet, but it wouldn't take much more. Even Morrigan's eyes looked a little brighter than normal. Elissa herself was only upright because of an unnamed herb that Morrigan had given her, which had woken her right up but resulted in a strange buzzing sound in her ears.

"All right." Wynne pursed her lips. "But this is against my better judgement."

"Noted," Elissa said flatly, nodding politely to the knights they passed.

Bann Teagan cleared his throat as they all came to a stop beside the windmill. "The passage is through there."

Elissa looked dubiously at the structure, and then at the castle on the other side of the lake. "That's a very long walk."

Teagan shrugged. "It's the only way in, other than the front gates."

"And going there would be asking for trouble," Alistair said gloomily.

Teagan's gaze slid past her. "Maker's breath."

Elissa spun, her hand instinctively going to her sword hilt. She felt more than saw her companions tense.

A woman was running down the slope leading away from the castle entrance towards them. Not quite running, Elissa corrected herself as she watched the woman try not to fall off her impossibly high heels, more like toddling. As the woman neared, Elissa's jaw nearly dropped. Arlessa Isolde. Only, an Arlessa Isolde who looked nothing like her normally carefully coiffed self. Elissa's eyebrows rose at the sight of the roughly bunned brown hair. What had happened to the elaborate Orlesian hairstyles that the arlessa favoured? She gestured quickly to her companions, signalling for them to relax.

"Teagan!"

Elissa winced. That screech of hers hadn't changed, at least.

Duke growled, and bared his teeth.

Isolde was clearly out of shape as she ground to a halt beside Teagan, panting heavily. "Thank the Maker you yet live."

He stared down at her as though he didn't know what to do. "Isolde?"

"I do not have much time to explain." Isolde clutched at her brother-in-law's arm. "I slipped away from the castle as soon as I saw the battle was done, but I must return quickly. And…I need you to come with me, Teagan. Alone."

Oh no, she didn't. Elissa stepped forward sharply. "I think we will need more of an explanation than that, _my lady_." Possibly a little too heavy on the sarcasm there, but this was _Isolde_.

Isolde glanced at her, and her nose twitched. "What? I…who is this woman, Teagan?"

If she said his name one more time in that awful tone, Elissa was going to slap her. Or scream. Why was it that this woman could always drive her to forget all the manners her parents had ever taught her?

Alistair cleared his throat. "You remember me, Lady Isolde, don't you?"

Isolde stared at him for a moment, and then comprehension dawned in her eyes. It was quickly followed by fury and disgust. "Alistair! Of all th— What are you doing here? I told you-"

Elissa's anger flared and her voice cracked like a whip. "Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?"

"And who do you think you are?" Isolde whirled on her. "Some strumpet following this bastard around?"

Elissa's smile was like honeyed ice. "I'm hurt to think you've forgotten me so quickly. After all those lovely afternoons in the palace together." They had been torture. Elissa would almost have preferred to have been water-boarded.

Isolde looked confused, but slightly wary.

Teagan sighed. "Surely you recognise Lady Elissa?"

"Wh-" Isolde almost visibly scrambled to regain her wits and dropped into a curtsey. "-Lady Elissa." Despite her polite words, the arlessa's gaze was scathing as it swept over Elissa's armour and dark red hair.

Elissa took great delight in inclining her head the bare minimum that courtesy required from a teyrna to an arlessa, and wondered if she'd object. "Lady Isolde."

Isolde's back stiffened but she smiled politely. "What are you doing here? I didn't know you were going to be…visiting us."

Apparently she wouldn't. "It was a last minute decision. I thought I'd come and see where Alistair grew up." Elissa smiled sweetly. Then her eyes flashed. "We will be having a long conversation about the way-"

"Perhaps now is not the time for this?" Wynne eyed them both disapprovingly.

Elissa felt her cheeks warm. Damn it. She'd gotten distracted. "Yes, of course."

Alistair hurried on before anyone else could say anything. "Please, Lady Isolde. We had no idea anyone was even alive inside the castle. We must have some answers."

Isolde turned towards him, relaxing slightly as she made her way back onto socially steadier ground. "I know you need more of an explanation but I…don't know what is safe to tell." She pawed at Teagan's arm again. "Teagan, there is a terrible evil in the castle. The dead waken and hunt the living. The mage responsible was caught, but still it continues…and I think Connor is going mad." Her bottom lip trembled, as though she was about to cry. "We have survived, but he won't flee the castle. He has seen so much death. You must help him, Teagan. You're his uncle. You can reason with him. I do not know what else to do!"

Almost despite herself, Elissa felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman. Her husband ill, her arling in chaos and now some form of evil in the castle itself. It would take a stronger woman than Arlessa Isolde to be undaunted. Nonetheless... "Why must Teagan go alone?"

"For Connor's sake, I promised I would return quickly, and only with Teagan." She glanced nervously up at the castle.

Teagan frowned. "Promised? Whom did you promise?"

"Something the mage unleashed. It…speaks through Connor, sometimes. So far it allows Eamon, Connor and myself to live." Her bottom lip trembled again. "The others…were not so fortunate. It's killed so many and turned their bodies into walking nightmares." She shuddered. "Once it was done with the castle, it struck the village! It wants us to live, but I do not know why. It allowed me to come for you Teagan, because I begged, because I said Connor needed help."

Elissa broke in again. "Tell me about this mage you mentioned." It seemed like magic was at the root of all their problems lately.

The other woman's expression darkened. "He is an…infiltrator, I think – one of the castle staff. We discovered he was poisoning my husband. That's why Eamon fell ill."

Poison? That had been what that elf had been hired to watch for then. To update Howe, maybe even Loghain, on how the 'illness' was progressing.

"Eamon was poisoned?" Teagan croaked, looking as though he'd been punched in the stomach.

"He claims an agent of Teyrn Loghain hired him. But he might be lying. I do not know."

"If a mage was responsible," Morrigan drawled, "then no doubt tis a demon behind all this."

The question remained however, whether Loghain had ordered this done as well? Had he fallen so far as to blindly order the wholesale slaughter of Redcliffe?

Isolde's eyes widened. "Oh Maker's mercy! Could it really be a demon?" She tugged desperately on Teagan's arm. "I can't let it hurt my Connor. Please come back with me Teagan. Please!"

He nodded slowly. "The king is dead, and we need my brother now more than ever. I will return to the castle with you, Isolde."

Isolde slumped in relief. "Oh, thank the Maker. Bless you, Teagan. Bless you!"

Elissa reached out and caught his sleeve. "This is a mistake. You're going to get yourself killed."

His smile was sad. "I cannot let Isolde return alone. Perhaps I can help Eamon or Connor. Perhaps this is really a trap, but this is my family. I must try." He took a breath. "I have no illusions of dealing with this evil alone. You, on the other hand, have proven quite formidable." He glanced at his sister-in-law. "Isolde, can you excuse us for a moment? We need to confer in private before I return to the castle with you."

"All right. I will be waiting by the bridge. Please hurry."

The arlessa shot Elissa a dirty look before hurrying off.

"Here's what I propose: I go in with Isolde, and you enter the castle through the secret passage." Teagan tugged a heavy gold ring off his right hand and held it out to her. "My signet ring unlocks the door. Perhaps I will…distract whatever is inside, and give you a better chance at getting in undetected."

"I can't let you do this," Elissa insisted. "This is insane. You're going to go in alone to a castle controlled by some sort of demon with enough power to raise hundreds of corpses? We won't even have time to get through that tunnel before you'll be dead."

"What choice do either of us have? If your business with Eamon is important, you're going to have to go inside to find him."

Alistair cleared his throat. "He's right. Without Arl Eamon, we'll never get the support we need."

"And then we're going into this same castle, over-run with undead, and trying to clear them out?" Elissa shook her head, already knowing she was going to agree.

"Just like the Circle of Magi," Alistair quipped.

"Perfect." She sighed. She took the ring from his hand and stared down at it grimly, thinking of the two signet rings already hanging around her neck.

"Ser Perth and his men will watch for danger at the castle gate," Teagan promised, glancing past her towards the knight. "If you can open the gate from within, they can come in and help you. Right?"

"Yes, my lord," the knight agreed.

Teagan turned back towards Elissa. "Whatever you do, Eamon is the priority here. If you have to, just get him out of there. Isolde, me, and anyone else, we're expendable."

Elissa nodded. "Of course. But I'll do my best to get everyone out."

Teagan smiled. "The Maker smiled on me indeed when he sent you to Redcliffe." His expression sobered. "But I can delay no longer. I must depart. Allow me to bid you farewell…and good luck." He clapped Alistair on the back, nodded to the others and then offered her a brief bow. "My lady."

Elissa watched as the two disappeared up the hill, and then glanced at the sun. It was several hours after dawn by now, they would need to get a move on if they hoped to deal with this today. "Right, let's go."

She led the way to the windmill door. It opened easily enough, although with a creak. The inside was kept tidily, and it didn't take Leliana very long to spot the trapdoor leading down. A few moments later they were descending into a pitch-black tunnel. The musty smell of stale air swept up past them and into the windmill itself. Somewhere in the distance, Elissa could hear the drip of water against stone.

A moment later a soft purple-lit glow spread out around them, lighting up the tunnel ahead.

Elissa glanced back. "Thanks, Morrigan."

The witch sneered audibly. "It's a damp tunnel. There might be _frogs_. I didn't want to put up with Alistair's shrieks if he fell over one…again."

Elissa smothered a grin.

It took Alistair a moment. "Hey! That wasn't very nice."

"And your point is?" Morrigan asked mockingly.

As their conversation degenerated further, Zevran slipped up beside Elissa. "I take it you don't like the arlessa very much."

Elissa laughed dryly. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I'm a very observant person." He winked.

Leilana stepped between them. "It's more than just the way she treated Alistair though, isn't it?"

"We've never gotten along," Elissa said flatly. "She…disagreed with my father teaching me to fight."

"Perhaps it was not a bad thing, that she couldn't fight." Leilana tapped her lip with her index finger. "I dare say a demon would be less willing to let her live if she was a threat."

Elissa shrugged. "Doesn't change the fact that she's shallow, arrogant, and hates me because I never had the time for her and won't play along with her inane conversations." She paused. "And she's obsessed with clothes."

"Hey!" Leliana protested.

"No, I'm serious. Today was the first time I've seen her without her hair perfectly coiffed and at least fifty golds worth of jewellery. And she never ever wears trousers. Says it's not right for a noblewoman."

"And that's why you hate her?" Alistair joined the conversation.

Elissa scowled. "No. I like dresses and jewellery as much as the next girl. I hate her because she tried to convince my parents I shouldn't be allowed to wear trousers ever."

Wynne cleared her throat. "Hate is a very strong word to use, my dear."

"I'm feeling in a very strong mood," Elissa muttered.

Zevran grinned. "You _really_ don't like her, do you? If she survives this, I could…get rid of her…" he trailed off.

Elissa shot him a glare. "Thank you, but no. I'm not into assassinating people."

"It is such a neat way of disposing of loose ends though." Zevran laughed. "Perhaps I will have changed your mind by the time all this is done, no?"

Elissa just shook her head with a sigh.

It felt like they were walking forever but Elissa had no idea how much time had passed when they finally arrived at a set of stone-hewn stairs leading to a wooden door at the end of the tunnel. After a quick glance around, Elissa shoved the door open and sprang through, ready for an attack.

There was no-one in sight, alive or dead. She let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding. A long line of cells was carved into the rock on either side of the corridor, with heavy metal bars at the entrance to each. The dim light from two torches danced shadows into the cells, and for a moment Elissa thought she saw gleaming eyes peering out of the nearest one. A moment later the light moved, and the cell was empty.

"Oh." Wynne sighed. "I hate these places. At least this one doesn't look very much used."

"We don't make habit of imprisoning people for the fun of it," Elissa said indignantly.

"You might not, but others do." Zevran grinned. "At any rate, escape tunnels make such very handy entrance tunnels, don't you think?"

"Only for people who have to break in," Alistair retorted.

"Shush," Elissa ordered.

There were a few moments of silence, and then Alistair peered into one of the cells. "I locked myself in a cage once, when I was a child. For an entire day. Ah. Good times."

Wynne looked horrified. "And no-one noticed?"

"Well, no." He shrugged half-heartedly. "I didn't have any lessons that day."

Elissa gritted her teeth.

"Ooh." Zevran was up ahead. "Look what we have here. A mage."

Elissa quickened her steps to catch up with him where he stood by the final cell. A man in torn mage robes was crumpled in the corner, his skin marked by blood, bruises and dirt. He had been tortured.

"Oh, you poor thing," Leilana breathed.

Slowly, the man's head lifted revealing brown eyes that couldn't quite focus. "No...Please...don't. Please...I don't know anything," he rasped, staring over Elissa's right shoulder.

Wynne gasped. "Jowan?"

The mage squinted slightly, although his eyes remained out of focus. "Wynne? Is that you?" He shuffled forward slightly, revealing distended hands that looked like every joint was broken.

"Who did this to you?" Alistair demanded.

"Wh-The guards." Jowan shuffled a little closer. "Y-you don't look like the arlessa's guards."

Elissa felt sick. She knew torture was often used as an interrogation tool, but her father had rarely used it and she hadn't thought to find it in Arl Eamon's castle. "No. I'm not," she said gently. "I'm from outside the castle. I came to see what was happening here in Redcliffe."

"Let me heal him," Wynne said abruptly.

"Wasn't it you who said we are all too tired for this little trip? And now you want to waste your strength?" Morrigan sneered.

Wynne gave her a disgusted look. Then she turned back to Elissa. "Please?"

Elissa nodded silently. "Using magic won't alert the demon, right?"

"I can shield from it." Wynne was already moving, her hands glowing a soft blue. It was several long and tense moments before she sat back on her heels. "There, I've done what I can."

"Thank you." Jowan gingerly pushed himself up right. "I, uh, know that I don't deserve your kindness." The bruises were still there, but he was moving more easily and his hands were straight again.

Wynne pressed her lips together. "Blood mage or not, I could hardly leave you like that."

A blood mage? Elissa stiffened, and silently reinforced the walls in her mind.

Morrigan snorted. "You? A blood mage? I would never have guessed."

"How did you end up here?" Wynne demanded. "I thought you…dead. Hunted down by the Templars."

Jowan looked rueful. "I guess you might have been told that. I was in hiding when the Templars caught me."

"The Templars put you in here?" Elissa eyed him incredulously. The penalty for blood magic was death, wasn't it? Not imprisonment and torture!

"No. When I was caught, I was taken to Denerim to await execution. But Teyrn Loghain came to see me. I was told Arl Eamon was a threat to Fereldan, that if I dealt with them, Loghain would settle things with the Circle. He sent me to teach her son, Connor." Jowan looked at them pleadingly. "He said I could make up for my crime. He said I would be helping my country."

"You were the one who poisoned the arl?" Elissa scowled. "And summoned the undead?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "I mean, I did poison the arl. But I was already locked up by the time the creatures came to life and all the killing started. At first, Lady Isolde came down here with her men to demand I undo what I did. I thought she was talking about poisoning the Arl. That was the first I heard about the walking corpses. She thought I'd summoned a demon to torment and destroy her family and Redcliffe.

"And yet she seemed so surprised when we suggested it might be a demon," Morrigan muttered.

"Yes, well, Isolde isn't exactly known for her intelligence," Elissa said dryly.

"She…had me tortured." Jowan glanced down. "There was nothing I could do or say that would appease her. So they…left me to rot."

"When did Loghain send you here?"

"Two months ago."

Before Cailan died then. Maybe even before Castle Cousland was attacked. Had Loghain and Howe been planning this all from the start? Had Loghain arranged for her parents deaths as well? She'd thought he'd simply acted after the fact in making Howe Teyrn, but now…

Alistair frowned. "But why did the arlessa need a mage to tutor her son?"

"Connor had started showing…signs." Jowan explained. "Lady Isolde was terrified the Circle would take him away for training."

"Connor? A mage?" Alistair shook his head. "I can hardly believe it."

"She sought an apostate to teach her son in secret so he could learn to hide his magic. The arl never knew what she did."

Elissa pressed her lips together. So much for the pious, perfect Isolde.

Wynne's eyes narrowed. "How much magic did you teach Connor? Enough for him to summon a demon?"

"No," Jowan protested. "He's still a child, he can barely cast a minor spell, let alone something powerful. But he could have done something accidentally."

Wynne sighed. "And with the Veil to the Fade torn, spirits and demons could come through. Powerful ones could kill and create those walking corpses."

Leliana leaned forward. "You said the arl had no idea?"

"No. She was adamant he never find out. If he did, she said he would do the right thing, even if it meant losing their son. And that infuriated her. I-I never meant for it to end like this. I swear. Let me help you fix this."

Elissa raised her eyebrows, glancing at his injuries. Even with Wynne's healing, he would be a liability.

"Well, I say this boy could be of some use to us." Morrigan tilted her head.

Wynne cleared her throat. "He is dangerous, my dear. If not to others, then surely to himself."

"And does it not suit our purposes for him to be dangerous to others?" Morrigan demanded with a glare. "And you betray your own kind with such words, old woman!"

Wynne's lips thinned. "Humanity is my kind. To play with forces beyond one's control is to invite disaster, no matter one's intentions."

Leilana stepped forward. "He wishes to redeem himself…doesn't everyone deserve that chance?"

Morrigan sneered. "Like yourself, you mean?"

"Everyone deserves a chance to redeem themselves in the Maker's eyes." Leliana gestured. "This man no less than any."

"Jowan has good intentions," Wynne said slowly. "But…a blood mage? I-I find it difficult to trust his words."

Elissa held up a hand to stop the debate. "I'm sorry, Jowan. I can't. We will have to fight our way through the castle, and you would only slow us down. " And you are a blood mage, she didn't say out loud. I _can't_ trust you. Even if you don't look like you could ever be a threat to anyone.

"I understand," he said quietly.

"Then let him go," Morrigan urged. "Why keep him prisoner here?"

"Hey, hey!" Alistair objected. "Let's not forget he's a blood mage. You can't just let him go free."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "Better to slay him? To punish him for his choices? Is this Alistair who speaks? Or the Templar?"

"I'd say it is common sense," he retorted. "We don't even know the whole story yet."

Elissa shook her head slowly, her sense of duty warring with her conscience. "I'm sorry. It isn't my place to release you from an imprisonment ordered by the Arlessa."

"You condone this torture?" Wynne's expression was one of utter outrage.

"No. But on his land, Arl Eamon is the ultimate authority. And in his absence, Isolde. I can't interfere with that."

Leliana frowned, as though trying to figure out a puzzle. "You didn't mind stepping on the Chantry's toes at the Tower."

"We had to defeat the Blight. It was our duty-" Elissa began.

Morrigan threw her hands up. "Duty. Duty. It's always about duty with you, isn't it?"

Elissa had had enough. "I'm a Cousland. Of course it's about duty. It's how I was brought up." She turned back to the prisoner. "I'm sorry, Jowan." But she would talk to Isolde about the torture. Her lip twisted. Who was she fooling? It would not be nearly so polite as a 'talk'. Teagan would never let this continue, and he seemed to have some influence with his sister-in-law.

"I understand, my lady." Jowan swallowed. He backed away from the grating to sit against the back wall.

"Let's move," she ordered.

Wynne tossed her a dirty look as she stormed past, Leliana talking very quickly beside her. Morrigan was equally pissed, although for largely different reasons. Alistair looked torn, but then followed them. Elissa hesitated, and then closed her hand around the dagger at her waist. She tossed it through the bars. "If they come for you…"

Without waiting for his response she hurried on.

Zevran paced besides her. "What precisely do you intend for him to do with that?"

"Good question," she muttered. Had she given it for him to commit suicide? To fight them off? What she even been thinking? Giving him any sort of weapon was breaching all sorts of rules governing the authority of an arl, or teyrn, on their land, never mind the fact he was a blood mage. If Eamon, or even Isolde found out, there would be hell to pay. She didn't even have the power of Highever behind her anymore. Maker damn it. Yet, torture? There were other ways, weren't there? Particularly since this Jowan appeared willing enough to talk…

There were several minutes of muffled silence, and then a startled shriek up ahead drew Elissa's attention. Four dead corpses had just lurched around the corner. Thankful she'd not put away either her shield or sword, Elissa broke into a sprint. Alistair beat her to them and began hacking away as the first burst of ice exploded from Morrigan's hands. Four monsters posed little threat to the six of them however, so it was only a matter of time before it was over.

"Right, so now we know for sure the monsters are still lurking in the castle," Elissa said grimly.

Duke growled softly.

Alistair scowled at the floor. "Oh goody."

Elissa glanced around the corner and at the door at the end of the long stone corridor. "That goes upstairs, I assume?" The ache at the back of her mind that she was slowly getting used to had started again. The First Enchanter had said that she was feeling magic being cast, like a mage did. That when the blood mages had opened up her mind as a child, they'd somehow made her more sensitive to knowing when magic in general was being used, not just blood magic. That meant the demon, or Connor, was working magic somewhere in the castle.

He nodded.

Elissa pursed her lips. "Right. Let's go hunt a demon then."

"Did you really have to say that?" Alistair gasped out as he cast his fifth Holy Strike in ten minutes.

"I didn't mean these demons," Elissa retorted. She whipped around to parry a strike, and then jammed her elbow back into the face of a shade that had crept up behind her. Their passage through the ground floor of the castle to the main courtyard had not only unearthed dozens, if not hundreds, of corpses, but a large smattering of demons. Even here, out in the open, the air was heavy with the stench of decay and blood, both human and otherwise.

Alistair's heavy breathing rasped through his helmet. "Yes. Well. When we get a chance, I'm teaching you some Templar tricks. We're running into demons way too often."

Elissa spun and shoved her sword into the nearest corpse, trying desperately to ignore the sweat trickling down the back of her neck and the burn of the muscles in her arms and legs. Her stomach muscles weren't faring much better either. "Good idea."

Alistair's gaze went over her shoulder and he swore. "A revenant."

Elissa whipped around to see the heavily armoured corpse heading towards them, and felt like swearing herself. "Any suggestions?"

He nodded towards the gate. "The lever there will lift the portcullis. The bann said Ser Perth would wait for us outside."

"Right. Leliana!"

The woman spun. "I heard."

"Duke, keep the other corpses and demons off my back. Alistair, use that crossbow." It was time for her to play bait. Ignoring her companion's protests, Elissa broke into a run. Her boots clanged against the stone as she moved, intentionally making enough noise to draw the demon's attention, and hopefully hold it. As long as it was chasing her, it wouldn't be attacking the others. Distantly she heard the slow creak of the portcullis, the blast of a horn and then the shouts of knights.

"For the arl!" someone cried.

An arrow skidded off her armour, and then Zevran darted up the stairs to deal with the archers. A streak of stone rushed past her, and the revenant stumbled back a step. Elissa closed the distance between them quickly, hoping to take advantage of its momentary weakness. Despite her speed, it had recovered by the time she reached it, and she could almost feel her energy being drained from her as it used its own magic. Gritting her teeth, she raised her blade and swung in. The drain halted as the corpse was forced to dodge. Duke leaped past her with a roar, and on the far side a knight appeared, hacking away at the creature.

When at last the courtyard was clear, Alistair looked up at her. "Or we could simply not get ourselves into situations where we find them?"

It took her a moment to place the conversation, and then she snorted. "Somehow, I don't think that is going to happen."

"Neither do I." He sighed.

"Is everyone all right?" Elissa glanced around at her companions. Both mages' eyes were still glowing that eerie blue that made Elissa uncomfortable, but no-one had any obvious injuries. Considering that Wynne had been healing them constantly, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised. But even magical healing could do only so much, and her entire body was aching. At least she had not died, unlike the two knights who lay dead near the revenant, victims of its life-draining magic.

Ser Perth cleared his throat. "Shall we enter the Main Hall together, my lady? It must be held if we are to regain control of the castle."

Elissa looked up at the heavy doors. "I suppose so. But you should let us go first. In case there are demons."

"Of course, my lady."

They climbed the stone stairs, and then two of the knights pushed open the doors. The back of her head tingled. Magic was being worked.

The hall was just as she recalled from all those years ago, with intricate carvings clearly chosen to Orlesian tastes. The only change was who stood up on the dais at the far end. A cringing Isolde stood beside a young boy Elissa didn't know, but could guess was her son. Several guards stood impassively nearby, and all were watching Teagan doing backflips in front of the dais.

Elissa cringed. The bann was clearly being controlled by something. The demon, most likely, although she couldn't see it anywhere. Somewhere deep in her mind, a corner she quickly crushed, a voice noted that Teagan was in very good shape for a man of his age whose main duties involved sitting down.

Still, she couldn't let this go on. They were wasting time.

"Enough." Elissa tightened her grip on her sword and strode forward.

The boy looked up, his face twisting. "So these are our visitors?" The voice issuing from his mouth didn't sound like a child's voice. There was something…more to it. "The ones you told me about, mother?"

So it _was_ Connor. It had been four years since she last saw him, and there was a big difference between a four-year-old and an eight-year-old.

"Y-yes, Connor." Isolde's shoulders seemed to slump even further. She looked like a broken woman, and Elissa couldn't help the twinge of pity of her heart.

"And this is the one who killed my soldiers. The ones I sent to reclaim my village?"

Elissa stilled. _Connor_ was responsible for all this? He'd raised the corpses deliberately? So much for him not knowing very much magic!

"And now it's staring at me," he complained. "What is it, Mother? I can't see it well enough."

Elissa blinked. She was standing maybe five feet away from him, and he couldn't see her? That didn't make sense.

Isolde winced. "This…this is a woman, Connor. J-just as I am."

"You lie!" Connor snapped. "This woman is nothing at all like you. Why, just look at you. Half your age and pretty as well. I'm surprised you don't order her executed in a fit of jealousy."

It was Elissa's turn to cringe. Isolde would _not_ take that well.

To her surprise, Isolde didn't grow angry. "Please Connor. I beg you. Don't hurt anyone!"

There was a shift in the boy's face, a sudden innocence and youth where there had been hard edges and anger. "M-mother? What's happening? Where am I?" His voice was child-like now, the voice she would have expected him to have.

"Oh, thank the Maker!" The relief on Isolde's face was almost painful as she dropped to her knees. "Connor! Connor, can you hear me?"

Connor's face twisted again, and he shoved her backwards. "Get away from me, fool woman! You are beginning to bore me."

Elissa caught her breath sharply.

"Maker's breath!" Ser Perth blurted out. "What has happened here?"

"Tis rather obvious, is it not?" Morrigan drawled. "The boy has become an abomination. _He _is the source of all your problems."

Elissa wanted to groan. This was perfect. Absolutely perfect. She flexed her gauntleted hand around her sword hilt, resisting the urge to simply attack the demon. If she killed the demon now, it wasn't a faceless mage who would die too, but Connor, the heir of Redcliffe.

"No! Don't say that!" Isolde whirled. "Grey Warden…Lady Elissa…please don't hurt my son! Connor didn't mean to do this. It was that mage, the one who poisoned Eamon – he started all this! He summoned this demon. Connor was just trying to help his father!"

"And made a deal with the demon to do so." Morrigan snorted. "Foolish child!"

"It was a fair deal," Connor retorted. "Father is alive, just as I wanted. Now it is my turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to conquer the world. Nobody tells me what to do anymore!"

"Is that Connor talking? Or the demon?" Elissa demanded, ignoring Teagan's cackling. He spoke of 'Father', not 'his father', and yet, she remembered a tiny boy-child, shy and quiet as he half-hid in his mother's skirts. Not a young boy who dreamed of taking over the world!

Connor threw back his head and laughed. "What difference does it make?" His eyes flashed as he turned to the side. "Quiet uncle! I warned you what would happen if you kept shouting, didn't I?" His hand clenched and Teagan screamed.

Elissa started, barely refraining from charging forward.

Connor's smile was cruel. "Yes, I did. But let's keep things civil. This woman will have the audience she came here for." He turned. "Tell us woman – what have you come here for?"

Elissa took a deep breath. Until they knew more, she would need to step carefully. "I came to see Arl Eamon."

"A concerned well-wisher, then?" Connor raised an eyebrow. The expression didn't fit on the youthful face, and Elissa suppressed a shudder. "Why didn't you say so in the first place? All this killing and fighting is so unnecessary. But Father is so very ill. We shouldn't disturb him. Right, Mother?"

Isolde gulped. "I-I…don't think…"

"Of course you don't." Connor snarled. "Ever since you sent the knights away, you've done nothing but spoil my fun. Frankly, it's getting rather dull. I crave excitement. And action!" He gestured viciously. "This woman spoiled my sport by saving that stupid village, and now she'll repay me!"

Elissa barely had time to register the shout before the guards around the room were moving. Duke lunged past her, barrelling into the chest of the nearest guard. As the pair hit the ground in a clatter of metal against stone, Elissa brought her sword up to block a downward strike from a second guard. Another's mace whipped towards her and she leaped to avoid it. Alistair was suddenly there beside her, his long-sword forcing back the mace-wielding giant.

Her own opponent's blade whistled through the air in a wide sweep. She parried, and stepped back lightly. He was well trained, and it was as though they were dancing, only with a far more lethal outcome than any dance she'd perform in court. Her muscles screamed as he brought his heavier weight to bear. There was a flare of magic just behind her, and his muscles weakened for a moment, as though he were dazed. Taking advantage of his distraction, she darted under his guard and slid her blade up through flesh and bone.

She pulled away and spun to look for her next target. Her eyes widened as she spotted Bann Teagan, his blade slashing at an already bleeding Duke. With a cry, she threw herself into the battle. Even as she met each blow, quickly pulling away to strike in again, her thoughts were whirling. This was one opponent who had to survive their battle. If he didn't, who knew what their chances of winning Redcliffe's support would be?

She stepped to the side and whipped her blade around, aiming for Teagan's wrist. If she could bring enough force to bear, maybe she could snap his wrist and put him out of the fight without actually killing him. But he shifted, and her swing missed. She pulled back hurriedly, steadying herself and studying her opponent. He swung wide, and she saw her opportunity. Moving in close, she rammed her shield into his face and brought her blade down heavily on his helmeted head. He reeled for a moment, and then crumpled to the floor. His sword hit the ground with a loud clang, and she kicked it away.

As she stepped back, her breathing was loud but it was the only sound in the hall. Her upper arm throbbed and she could feel liquid dripping against her skin. A quick look around told her that the guards were all dead, or at least defeated. The smell of foul demon and corruption lingered, despite the fact that Connor was nowhere to be seen. Isolde cringed in a corner.

The now familiar hum of Wynne's healing magic filled the air again. Elissa glanced at her companions, wincing as she saw the deep cut on Leliana's arm and the heavy blood matting Duke's fur. Her own ankle felt strange, but it held when she put her weight onto it.

There was a groan at her feet. Elissa tensed, waiting to see if the bann would try to fight her again.

Isolde rushed past her. "Teagan! Teagan! Are you all right?"

Another groan escaped the man's lips, and then his eyes slowly opened. They were clear, and he made no move to grasp his sword.

Elissa smothered a sigh of relief and let her muscles relax. "How are you feeling, my lord?"

"Like someone hit me over the head," he said dryly.

Elissa's smile felt half-hearted. "Forgive me, my lord."

He was about to respond, when Isolde interrupted him. "Blessed Andraste! I would never have forgiven myself if you died after I brought you here. What a fool I am."

Elissa felt her anger flare. "Yes. Considering you brought his lordship here without even warning him what he might face!" Her eyes narrowed as Isolde's face went white. "Tell me, did you-" She swallowed the rest of her words to keep her from continuing the statement. Then she took a breath. "Why didn't you tell us about Connor? About all of this?"

She hung her head. "I didn't tell you because I believed we could save him. I still do."

"You thought we could save him if we _didn't_ know what was wrong with him?" Elissa demanded. Then she shook her head. There were more important things to think about. "Where is Connor now? Why did he run?"

"I think I saw him run upstairs," Teagan said. "Towards the family quarters."

"He's…scared of violence." Isolde twisted her hands together. "I know it sounds strange. He may have run up to his room, or…"

"Or he is waiting in ambush," Zevran drawled.

Isolde looked pained. "I don't know. The fighting may have…scared Connor into coming out again, and so he ran. He is not always the demon you saw." Isolde turned begging eyes on Elissa. "Connor is still inside him, and sometimes, he breaks through. Please, I just want to protect him."

Teagan climbed to his feet and glared at his sister-in-law. "Isn't that what started this whole thing? You hired a mage to teach Connor in secret…to protect him."

Isolde flinched. "If they discovered Connor had magic, they'd take him away. I thought if he learnt just enough magic to hide it…"

"Better taken away than possessed…or dead," Teagan said harshly.

"Do you realise what you've done?" Elissa snapped. "You're responsible for the deaths of dozens of your people. Their blood is on _your _hands because you weren't willing-"

"Enough." Teagan raised a hand. "This gets us nowhere, Lady Elissa."

Elissa gritted her teeth, struggling to rein her anger back in.

He took a deep breath, visibly bracing himself. "If Connor has come out, he may be vulnerable now?"

Isolde's eyes filled with tears. "I…perhaps…Is there no other way?" she asked desperately. "Last time, Connor was himself again for a day. We have time to look for another solution, don't we?"

"Wait," Alistair said suddenly. "You're saying he's up in the family quarters? Is that where Arl Eamon is?"

"Yes." Isolde nodded. "He's upstairs, in his room. I think the demon is keeping him alive."

Horror washed over Teagan's face. "So you're saying, if we destroy the demon, then…"

"My husband may perish, yes…" Her voice cracked.

Elissa's heart ached in sympathy almost despite herself. Resolutely, she pushed her anger and sympathy aside and turned to her companions. "Do we have other options to get rid of the demon? Beyond just killing Connor?" Her voice was tight.

"We can't kill a young boy, demon or no demon." Leliana's red braid whipped from side to side as she shook her head. "Please don't say we are considering that!"

Elissa glanced at Wynne. The two mages would be most likely to know of alternatives.

"I do not like the thought of slaying the young boy," Wynne admitted. "Demon or not. But I don't know any other way, unless you can convince the demon to abandon the child."

"Could we?" Hope filled Isolde's expression.

"Fool woman." Morrigan snorted. "Tis a pride demon, I suspect. It would never abandon its host. The only way to be rid of the demon is to kill the boy."

Isolde flinched.

"I wouldn't normally suggest slaying a child," Alistair said slowly. "But…he's an abomination. I'm not sure there is any choice."

Teagan nodded. "Connor is my nephew…but he is also possessed by a demon. Death would be…" He hesitated, and then pressed on. "…merciful."

"No!" Isolde exclaimed, looking between their grim faces. "What…what about the mage? He could know something of this demon. If he lives, we could still speak to him."

Elissa hesitated. "He's down in the dungeon, still alive." _Maybe. If he hasn't run yet._

"We should bring the mage here, immediately. I…I do not know how much we can trust him, but we must find out what he knows." The arlessa turned to her brother-in-law. "Teagan, can you bring him here?"

An expression of distaste touched his features. "He poisoned my brother. But I…will try, though if he resists I will not hesitate to kill him. I will return shortly."

"You should not travel alone through the castle, my lord." Elissa glanced around. "Leliana, will you accompany him?"

The other woman nodded. "Of course."

"Duke, go with them as well." Elissa nudged her mabari.

The hound gazed at her with a pathetic expression for a long moment.

"You'll come right back to me afterwards," Elissa promised him.

He growled softly, but obediently bounded away to follow the two humans disappearing out the door.

Elissa turned back to her other companions. "Alistair and Morrigan, if you could go and watch the door leading up to the family apartments?" Between the Templar and the mage, they should be able to feel the demon's presence if it tried to come back downstairs. "And try not to fight."

Alistair looked vaguely guilty as he turned away to follow Morrigan into the adjoining room.

Wynne rose from the last of the guards wearily. "They will all survive, I think."

"You look like you're about to fall over," Elissa observed. All of them were tired after a night and a day of near constant fighting with only infrequent lulls and assorted potions to keep them on their feet, but Wynne looked terrible even by comparison.

The old mage smiled wanly. "Healing is one of the more complex magics. It is easier for me than for others, but even so, it is very tiring." She fumbled for a flask and drained it. The change was visible as she straightened her shoulders, the weariness disappearing. But the glow in her already shining eyes intensified.

"Is that safe?" Elissa demanded, recalling their conversation about addiction. The last thing they needed was a mage addicted to lyrium.

"I know my limits, young one," Wynne said tartly.

Elissa shot her a sidelong glance. "All right, then."

"And you, my mistress?" Zevran appeared by her shoulder.

She started. "I'm fine."

"Of course you are," he drawled. "Hence you are favouring your left leg. And your right arm."

Elissa winced. She'd almost managed to forget about that. "It's nothing."

Wynne made a tutting noise and crossed to her side. Blessed relief flooded the injured ankle, and the pain faded away. More coolness touched Elissa's arm, and the throbbing died down there.

"Warrior you may be, but it does none of us any good if you get yourself killed because you won't look for help. The wound on your arm is deep. I can do little until you remove your armour. I know you better than to think you'll allow me to see it now, so I'll look for you tonight." Her tone was warning.

"That's not-" Elissa began a protest, and then sighed. "Thank you, Wynne."

There was a small commotion near the main doors. Leliana entered, supporting a stumbling Jowan beside her. The knife Elissa had given him was nowhere in sight. Teagan was next, keeping a wary eye on the mage but with a thunderous expression. Duke brought up the rear, growling disapprovingly.

"You're lucky to be alive Jowan, after all you've done." Isolde spat.

Elissa's eyes flashed as all her previous anger flared up. "No thanks to you."

It took a beat for the Orlesian to understand her. "I only did what I had to."

Teagan glanced at the still visible injuries. "But torture, Isolde?"

Jowan flinched.

Isolde stood her ground. "We needed information, Teagan. Eamon was ill, the knights were gone to search for a cure, you were in Denerim…there was no other way for me to find out what I needed to know!"

Leliana cleared her throat. "Perhaps we could discuss the moralities of torture another time? When we don't have a demon in the castle about to kill us?"

"The demon in Connor needs to be destroyed," Jowan said slowly. "Killing Connor is…the easiest way to that, certainly…But there is another way. A mage could confront the demon in the fade, without hurting Connor himself."

Out of the corner of her eye, Elissa saw Wynne frown.

"What do you mean?" Isolde demanded. "Is the demon not within Connor?"

Jowan shook his head. "Not physically. The demon approached Connor in the Fade while he dreamt, and controls him from there. We can use the connection between them to find the demon."

"That method has never been proven," Wynne said sharply. "It is only a theory."

"I found a document." Jowan twisted his hands together. "A record of it being done successfully."

Wynne frowned again.

Isolde's bottom lip trembled. "You can enter the Fade then? And kill the demon without hurting my boy?"

"No." Jowan swallowed and eyed Wynne warily. "But I can enable another mage to do so. It would normally take lyrium and several mages, but I have…blood magic."

Elissa stiffened, horror filling her. "No," she snapped. "Blood magic is forbidden. It is not an option."

"No, no. If there is a way, I must know it," Isolde begged. "Please, Jowan. Tell us what you mean."

"Normally, lyrium provides the power for the ritual. But I can take that power from someone's life energy. This ritual requires a lot of it, however. All of it, in fact." He looked away.

"So…someone must die? Someone must be sacrificed?" Teagan asked.

"Yes, and then we send another mage into the Fade." Jowan glanced at Morrigan and Wynne. "I can't enter because I'm doing the ritual." He hesitated. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything…it's not much of an option…"

"No, it's not an option at all," Elissa said flatly.

Jowan bowed his head. "I understand…I just-"

"I disagree," Isolde interrupted. "I think we should do it. Let it be my blood. I will be the sacrifice."

"What?" Teagan demanded. "Isolde, are you mad? Eamon would never allow it."

Isolde opened her hands. "Either someone kills my son to destroy that thing inside him, or I give my life so my son can live. To me, the answer is clear."

Alistair stepped forward. "Blood magic? How can more evil help? Two wrongs don't make a right!"

"I have not heard of a time when this ritual worked," Wynne murmured. "Can we trust Jowan to do as he says? Give him access to such power and who knows what he might do. I am uneasy…"

Morrigan cleared her throat. "It does seem like a sensible choice, with a willing participant." Her eyes gleamed.

Isolde looked pleadingly at Teagan. "Connor is blameless in this, Teagan. He should not have to pay the price."

The man looked at Elissa helplessly. "It…it's up to you, my lady. You know more about such things than I do, and it is your companion going into the Fade."

She shot him a suspicious glance. _Did he…had he meant…_

He continued on blithely. "The decision is yours."

_Perhaps not. Maybe all he meant was we'd already been to the Tower._ "No blood magic. There must be another way to enter the Fade."

"You can find lyrium and more mages at the Circle of Magi," Wynne said slowly. "Though, I am not sure that Irving will agree to do this. It has not been done before and the Circle does not have the resources they did before the...incident. We lost many of our mages, and most of our supplies." She grimaced.

Teagan tilted his head. "We saw smoke over the lake some weeks ago. Did something happen at the Circle?"

Wynne nodded tightly, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Elissa pushed aside the mage's objections. "But for something like this, they would come, no?"

"It is only a day journey over the lake," Teagan suggested. "We can provide a boat to get you there. It would be a two or three day round trip."

"But what will happen here?" Isolde demanded. "Connor will not remain passive forever."

Elissa worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "Can we afford to wait that long, then?" She glanced at her companions.

Isolde stretched out her hand pleadingly. "Save my son, and you will be rewarded, that I promise. Gold, jewels, whatever you want. His life is worth more to me than anything, even my own."

Elissa's eyes widened. "How dare you?" she spluttered. "You think I want _payment_ for trying to save Connor's life? The life _you_ endangered?"

"She meant no offence or challenge to your honour, my lady," Teagan said quickly. "She is distraught and knows not what she says." He glared at his sister-in-law.

Isolde looked down, and then back up. "I beg your forgiveness, my lady."

Elissa clenched her jaw. "Accepted, Lady Isolde." She glanced at Teagan. "You will arrange for a boat?"

"Of course." He inclined his head. "The monsters didn't make it to destroying them."

"All right." Elissa turned to her friends. "Any volunteers to go?"

"You will need my influence there," Wynne said. "And if I go, it would be best for Alistair to accompany me. Just to be safe."

Elissa nodded. There were seven of them. So if three were to go and four to stay…"Of course. Leliana, will you go with them? Three of you should be enough." That would leave Zevran, Morrigan and Duke with her. Keeping Alistair would have been best, as he was the only one with Templar training, but Wynne was right. A mage travelling without a 'templar' would only attract attention if someone noticed it.

"Of course." Leliana smiled.

"Are you not coming?" Wynne looked surprised.

Elissa shook her head. "I must stay here."

Alistair frowned. "But the Circle owes you a debt, not the rest of us."

"They will listen to Wynne, I'm sure."

The mage nodded slowly. "Yes. Irving and Greagoir know I left with you."

"Then the best place for me is here." Elissa pressed her lips together stubbornly.

"I'll arrange for the boat." Teagan moved away briskly. "You can be away as soon as you are ready."


End file.
